Harry Potter and the Curator of Magic
by Don't give up skeleton
Summary: It's been a year since the fall of Lord Voldemort, and Harry is ready to attempt to build a normal life. But when his career as an auror puts him in the path of a plot to usurp the Dark Lord's power, Harry realizes that he may never be destined for a peaceful life. What he does know is that if he fails this time, it could mean the return of Voldemort- or something worse.
1. Umbridge Overruled

A shiver seemed to run across the occupants of the bleak stone courtroom. Although it had been nearly a year since Dementors had been allowed in the courtrooms, or any Ministry of Magic building for that matter, the group of twenty or so men and women dressed in stately robes of rich purple seemed to be feeling the echoes of their presence. They sat in a half circle surrounding a solitary stone chair, on which a squat older woman was seated. It appeared that she had not been deemed a serious flight risk; the chair was equipped with a set of heavy manacled chains on the arms, but they simply hung beside her. She was constantly scanning the crowd overhead as though looking for something. When she didn't find it, her demeanor seemed to relax significantly, and she even managed what she seemed to think was a friendly, winning smile.

"Dolores Umbridge." A voice boomed from above, magnified and echoed by the room. "You have been brought before the Wizengamot to answer for your acts of treason, torture and murder." Kingsley Shacklebolt, recently appointed Minister of Magic and acting Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot spoke with righteous fury glinting in his normally calming voice. "As evidence, I present the Wizengamot itself… Or what's left of it, at least." He gestured towards the empty seats peppered throughout the crowd behind him. For every occupied seat, there was at least one or two empty spots on the benches.

"When Lord Voldemort (another suppressed shiver circled the room at the mention of the name) usurped the Ministry of Magic one year ago, you were one of the few active Ministry officials allowed to maintain your position in his new order. On testimony of many of those in this very room, you were a key piece in the Death Eater's takeover of the Ministry, leading to the torture, slaughter, and exile of the existing Wizengamot and Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Following Voldemort's coup, The council you oversaw was directly responsible for the systemic torture of innocent witches and wizards, many of whom became victim's of the Dementor's Kiss; again, at your orders." Kingsley gave a small, weary pause before continuing. "In light of these accusations, do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Dolores Umbridge was still smiling, but it seemed to be little more than a reflex. She seemed unable to immediately contest his account, only being able to utter half formed excuses. The crowd waited patiently for her response, but her blithering was interrupted not a half minute later by a knock on the door in the far corner of the room.

"Ah, about time." Kingsley said, a note of satisfaction appearing in his voice. "I'd begun to think that we'd be finished by the time he'd showed up. Weasley, why don't you let him in?"

A tall, thin wizard with horn-rimmed glasses nodded quickly and stood up to run to the door. As Percy Weasley opened it to allow the newcomer to step in the courtroom, a deeper hush fell over the crowd gathered in the room, few of whom seemed to have much interest in what Umbridge had to say. The muttering stopped, instantly replaced by an almost reverent quiet that was rather belied by the visitor's appearance.

He was a young man of just slightly above average height and quite skinny despite having developed a slightly more muscular physique during his travels of the past few years. His bright green eyes shown through his distinctive round glasses, and his messy hair just barely allowed sight of a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on his hairline. He seemed rather tired, but not at all unhappy. On the contrary, his appearance seemed to brighten the dark stone room almost immediately. As if he didn't notice the interruption that he'd caused in the court proceedings, he shook Percy's hand while muttering a quiet greeting and silently took a seat on the bench next to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Umbridge's smile had slipped into a look of grim shock. She simply stared at Harry until Kingsley spoke again.

"The Council is waiting on your testimony, Dolores. Unless you are ready to proceed to sentencing?"

This seemed to galvanize the witch. Though she still stuttered, there was otherwise a fair amount of conviction in her obviously well-rehearsed statement.

"Well, you see Minister…" She said in her nauseatingly saccharine voice that she'd been perfecting for her entire life. "I have only vague recollections of the time that I… Ahem… Served in You-Know-Who's Muggle Registration Committee." She punctuated the statement with a fake little cough as though she found the whole idea rather absurd. "I must have been under the effects of the Imperius Curse!" She finished dramatically, as if expecting the courtroom to gasp in amazement and declare her innocence on the spot. When nobody countered her, her smile began to return. Until that is a fake cough, not unlike her own emanated from Harry.

A few of the witches and wizards actually laughed, and even stern Kingsley seemed to be struggling to hide a note of amusement in his voice as he addressed Harry.

"Witness for the prosecution, you may introduce yourself and make your statement."

"Harry James Potter." Harry said. "Former student of Dolores Umbridge and witness to her Muggle-Born trials." At these last words, the smile that had been playing around his lips since he'd mocked Umbridge's fake coughing habit faded. "I've known Umbridge for four years now, since she was a teacher at Hogwarts." He paused to gather his thoughts before continuing. "While at Hogwarts, she took no greater pleasure than punishing students, using methods tha-"

He was interrupted by a sudden outburst from Umbridge. "My methods were approved of and properly vetted by the Ministry!" She shouted indignantly. "Not that it has any relevance to this hearing in, but as High Inquisitor I simply acted on the whims of my Ministry superiors. Any issue with Ministry policy at the time should be taken up with Cornelius Fudge!" She barked, all of the sweetness having suddenly evaporated from her voice.

"No, no, you misunderstand." Harry said. "You're completely correct. You're not on trial for what you did at Hogwarts, disgusting as it was. I was simply going to say that during my time at Hogwarts, I had a lot of teachers, and I learned something from every one of them." He was now glaring at her, all of the usual kindness wiped from his eyes and replaced with cold fury. "Even the ones who refused to teach. In fact, I think I learned more from you than most of my other teachers, in a way."

Even Umbridge couldn't hide the look of shock on her face. "Harry gave a grim chuckle. "Not spells or anything that you were actually hired to teach, but something that's actually much harder to pass on. Do you remember the lesson that you spent your entire year at Hogwarts driving home?

A look of dark realization had dawned on Umbridge's toad-like face. "Yes, that's right. Why don't you say it out loud for everybody?" Harry said in a taunting voice. "Come on now, surely you haven't forgotten? After all those times you watched me write it?" Umbridge appeared to have been struck mute. Her mouth opened and closed several times in rapid succession. "Ah, well." Harry continued. I suppose that I can help you out a bit then. He pulled back the sleeve of his robes and revealed a slightly faded scar on the back of his right hand; the words ' _I must not tell lies_ ' was written there in his own hand.

"I must not tell lies, Professor." He said the last word scathingly. "Even when lies are easy, the truth is more important. Shame you never took your own advice. Would you like to take back the lie you told us just now?"

"I am telling the truth!" Umbridge shrieked, beginning to sound truly desperate. "I was placed under the Imperius curse by the Death Eater Yaxley!"

Kingsley interjected, heading off Harry's anger. "The Imperious Curse is difficult to dispute… It leaves no traces, obviously. Yaxley has declined to cooperate with Ministry investigations into his crimes. Am I to understand that you have proof that she wasn't under the Curse, Potter?"

Harry nodded and continued speaking. "Like I said, I saw one of her phony 'trials.' I snuck into the Ministry in disguise and saw the whole thing. Nothing more that an excuse to arrest innocent muggle-borns. They gathered them up and threw them in a room like this. Surrounded them with Dementors and told them to prove that they hadn't 'stolen their magic' from proper wizards." The steely edge was resurfacing in his voice.

Umbridge looked slightly confused, but Kingsley seemed to have caught on to what Harry was getting at. "Tell me, if you can remember, of course, how the dementors were kept at bay from the judges during these trials?" He asked Umbridge.

She appeared search the question for traps momentarily before answering. "Well, with a Patronus of course… How else would you repel a dementor?"

"I see…" Kingsley continued. "And incidentally, what from does your Patronus take?"

"It's a cat, Minister." Triumph flashed in Harry's eyes.

"Ms. Umbridge," Kingsley said slowly. "The Patronus charm is a complex one that by it's very definition requires a great deal of agency and emotional input from the caster. Such being the case, it cannot be cast while under the Imperius Curse. And I take it that the Patronus that Harry saw in the courtroom the day that he infiltrated the Ministry was-"

"A cat." Harry finished for him. "The only other people in the room who could've been maintaining it were my friend Hermione, who's Patronus is an otter, and Yaxley. And I don't think that cat belonged to Yaxley." Harry's eyes narrowed. "Which brings us back around to 'I must not tell lies."

Harry could see drops of sweat forming on Umbridge's bloated face, causing her copious amounts of makeup to run and clump. "It- it- it's my father!" She said desperately and wildly. Her eyes looked like they were painfully bulging out of their sockets. "They said they had him, they probably still do! You-Know-Who's faithful are still out there, please, they could be torturing him as we speak, you have to-"

"Your father died six years ago, as you are well aware." Kingsley said harshly, cutting off her rambling. "After you severed ties with him, he died in St. Mungo's. As a former ministry employee we have his records on file. Incidentally, we also have the letter sent to you by the organizer of the funeral, which you sent back indicating that you did not wish to attend. We have been preparing this trial since we captured you on the run three months ago. Do not insult us by assuming that we haven't done our research on the matter."

"Now as I think that we've all heard enough of your stories, we shall proceed to your sentence." Kingsley said as Umbridge slumped back in her chair defeatedly. "For years, you've acted in a way that disgraces the Ministry and escaped punishment through flattery, blackmail, and every other foul trick that you could manage. I'll stand for it no more. All those in favor of conviction?" Every hand in the room flew up to answer Kingsley's call, except for Harry who wasn't allowed a vote. "The Wizengamot hereby finds you responsible for your actions. In light of the closing of Azkaban and the resulting overcrowding of other prisons, you will not be given a prison sentence."

At these words Umbridge's strained expression broke into a strange mixture of disbelief and relief that only lasted until Kingsley's next sentence: "In lieu of prison, you will be sentenced to exile from the Wizarding community. You'll turn over your wand to be destroyed, and tracking spells will be placed upon you to ensure that you do not obtain another or cast any form of magic. You'll report to the Muggle Liaison Office tomorrow to receive the details of your new living arrangements. Hopefully you can learn tolerance at the very least." Sensing another angry outburst from her, he hastily said "This court is now dismissed."

Harry stood and watched as Umbridge was dragged off, still screaming, by two uniformed Ministry security guards. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched her tiny legs kicking in every direction, eventually forcing one of the guards to cast a jinx binding them together for fear of losing his teeth. Her shrieks carried all the way down the hallway outside the courtroom until she was carried into the lift at the end of the corridor.

With the formalities out of the way, Kingsley clapped Harry on the shoulder as though greeting an old friend. "Excellent work, Potter. She's had that coming for even longer than you know… But enough of that. I take it that you're going to be settling down for a bit now, yeah? Finally ready to join the Auror office?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I'm back for good." After his defeat of Lord Voldemort, the greatest dark wizard of the era just barely one year ago, he'd been faced with a crossroads of sorts. Having skipped the last year of his education at Hogwarts to defeat Voldemort, he'd been invited to return by new Headmistress. Minerva McGonagall. While this offer had been sorely tempting on account of his girlfriend Ginny Weasley (with whom he had already been forced to part with for nearly a year), he'd ultimately turned it down. As he'd already received an invitation to become an auror for the Ministry of Magic and had several lifetimes' worth of practice combatting Dark Magic, he had little to gain from another year at school. Instead, he had decided to take a well-earned sabbatical. He'd spent the year traveling the world with his best friend Ron Weasley. Together, they'd journeyed the globe, engaging in Dueling tournaments, studying bizarre creatures that Harry could never have imagined before.

Harry's other closest friend, Hermione Granger (who also happened to be Ron's girlfriend) had of course been invited along, but had declined in order to finish her N.E.W.T.s. Ginny had been more interested in the trip, but as she planned on entering into the National Quidditch League, the extra year on the Gryffindor team would help sharpen her skills as a chaser and prove her abilities to potential recruiters. Not to mention, as Ron had pointed out, Mrs. Weasley would likely drop dead from shock if Ginny became the fourth of her seven children to drop out of school.

So Harry and Ron had set out on their own. At first it had been a thrilling affair; all the excitement and adventure of their journey to destroy the scattered fragments of Lord Voldemort's soul without the chilling stakes and danger. Harry had also found it something of a relief to visit countries where Voldemort's impact hadn't been so severe; while many had heard of him, his fame was diminished (and Harry's own fame by extension). However, as they'd neared the end of their travels, both Harry and Ron seemed to grow restless. Harry had only been able to see Ginny on Hogsmeade weekends and when he'd gone to her Quidditch matches. As good company as Ron was, he and Harry had a tendency to butt heads from time to time.

Much to his chagrin, he had seen even less of Hermione. She had been so engrossed in studies for her full schedule of advanced level classes that she'd rarely been able to find a moment to pull herself away, and when she did, it was difficult to get her to speak of anything else. All in all, the four of them were all very glad for the end of term and a relative return to normalcy. After so much travel, Harry could hardly wait to settle down. To this end, he'd emptied out a fair amount of his Gringotts bank account buying a small cottage house on the outskirts of Hogsmeade Village. As soon as he'd finalized the purchase, he'd sent a letter to Ginny asking if she'd like to stay with him. Not an hour later, he'd received a hastily scribble letter of confirmation.

Kingsley clapped Harry's shoulder again, shaking him from his daydreams about the new life that he was about to begin. "Very good, very good." Kingsley boomed. "The Auror Department is still gutted, it'll be very helpful to have you and Ronald around. And I've already begun the process of deputizing Hermione and Ginevra… Shame they wouldn't come on full time, but we'll take all the help that we can get. But there'll be plenty of time for that letter, I'll have an owl sent out soon. I daresay that you have other places that you'll be wanting to be now?" He gave a knowing wink.

Harry looked down at his watch and nearly jumped. "Yeah, thanks. I'll see you soon Kin- I mean, Minister Shacklebolt." Harry gave a hurried wave and darted out of the courtroom towards the lift at the end of the corridor.


	2. Mr Weasley's Warning

With a loud crack, Harry appeared on the crowed Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and was relieved to see that the train still hadn't pulled into the station. He rubbed his chest and tried to regulate his breathing a bit- after all this time, it seemed that Apparition still didn't agree with him. Nobody paid him much mind; the loud bang of somebody suddenly appearing out of thin air was rather commonplace in areas such as this.

"OI!" Ron's voice carried across the platform, louder and more sudden that Harry's apparition, causing several parents who had started to doze while waiting for the train to start. "What took so long?"

"Sorry," Harry said. "The trial ran long and I hung back to chat with Kingsley for a bit."

Ron waved off his apology. "Whatever, mate. Doesn't matter, just tell me you got her good… No, don't, there's no way it could live up to what I'm picturing… Ah, no, I have to know, just go on then." His eyes widened as Harry recounted the details of Dolores Umbridge's prosecution, embellishing just enough here and there for proper dramatic effect.

"I knew that throwing her into a pit of half-starved Pygmy Puffs was too much to hope for…" Ron said wistfully. "But I'll take that as a close second. Made to live as a Muggle… Bloody Hell. If there's anybody who deserves it, it's her. Mind, it's still not as much as she deserves, the rotten old-"

Fortunately, whatever creative profanity he'd concocted was drowned out by the overpowering whistle of the Hogwarts Express pulling into the station. Harry was suddenly aware that he'd never seen it stop from the outside. It didn't seem to need to decelerate at all; it simply pulled in at full speed, and then stopped immediately as though it had hit an invisible wall. Harry turned his full attention to it, knowing that Ron would be occupied cursing out Umbridge for the foreseeable future. Surely enough, a nearby witch covered the ears of her young son who'd been listening to Ron's diatribe with great interest.

Finally after several minutes, Harry caught a glimpse of distinctive red hair, nearly the exact shade of Ron's. Before he knew it, he was face to face with Ginny. All of the sudden everything about her seemed to hit him all at once, from her smell to the way that her hair fell over her shoulders and ran down her back, and he realized that he'd been waiting for over two years for this very moment. He would have liked nothing more than to kiss her like she'd never been kissed before, to grab her as tightly as he could and never let go again.

But as they'd agreed to keep their relationship private (and Harry highly doubted that Ron would approve of any of the thoughts running through his mind), he had to settle for standing in place looking slightly punch-drunk.

"So… How's things?" He said weakly. Ginny didn't respond. There were very many things that Harry liked about Ginny, but near the top of the list was her uncanny ability to ignore his weak ice-breakers.

"Harry…" She whispered, staring at him with slightly parted lips in a way that sent shivers down his spine. "Exactly what continent were you on when you last bathed?"

"Yeah, I- Hey, wait, what?" The spell was broken. Harry panicked and gave himself a quick sniff, only to look up and see Ginny giggling at him. He gave a rueful grin. "Very funny."

"Blimey… Tell me that we weren't that awkward when we first got together?" Ron had found Hermione, and they were making their way over to where Harry and Ginny stood. "Honestly… 'How's things…' Simply incredible." He shook his head in disappointment.

"Oh, please." Ginny said dismissively. "Harry told me that he practically had to spray the two of you down to keep you off each other. And for your information, we didn't just get together. Harry and I started dating over a year before the two of you!"

Seeing Ron's ears turn red and sensing disaster, Harry hastily steered the subject in a new direction. "So, aren't your parents meeting us here?" He asked Ron and Ginny.

"No point, is there?" Ron answered. "We can all apparate now, so they don't really need to come along. Mum said to just come back to the house after. Sounds like she's got something planned. Man, I hope there'll be food…"

Ginny rolled her eyes and turned back to Harry. "Well, that works out." She said. "I can grab the rest of my things before we move into your new place."

At these words, Hermione beamed proudly at Harry, while Ron's face morphed into one not unlike that of a Mountain Troll who'd just been instructed to put on an impromptu tap-dancing performance.

"Hold on just a moment, what's going on here?" He said slowly. "Surely you would've told me if you were moving in with my sister?" He gesticulated wildly between himself and Ginny. "Your best friend? Her brother? No? Unbelievable. Show me up in front of Hermione and move in with my sister in one move." Ron grumbled under his breath. "But that means…" His face cracked into a grin that made Harry suddenly rather nervous. "That means you haven't told my mother either!"

Harry's heart skipped a beat. The thought of what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would think had somehow never occurred to him. Would he have been expected to ask for their blessing first? After all of the hospitality that they'd shown him over the years, had he made a disrespectful mistake? But surely, he hoped Ginny would have warned him… She definitely wouldn't throw him out to the wolves like that…

These quiet hopes were immediately dashed by her next words. "Don't worry, Harry, I'm sure that Mum'll be thrilled to hear we're dating. She loves you, you know.

Harry felt his face shift into the same that Ron had made only moments ago. "You didn't even tell them about us dating?"

"What, and deprive her of the chance to give you one of her bear-hug sobfests?" Ginny said mischievously. "No, I don't think so." Her smile dropped a bit upon seeing his genuinely fearful expression. "Look, I'm sorry Harry... It was just so fast when we first started, and then you broke it off so quickly... And then when we picked up again, it was just so casual, I never thought to mention it."

Harry couldn't stay made at her when she seemed genuinely sorry; he supposed that it was his responsibility as her boyfriend. And it had been his idea to keep their relationship quiet, after all. "It's fine, just caught me off guard, I guess." He said. "Anyway, no point in standing around here, is there? Might as well get this over with..." He moved towards the exit of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Ron and Ginny followed, but Hermione stayed put, seemingly mesmerized by the scarlet steam engine before her.

"Er... Are you coming or what?" Ron said rather pointedly.

"Yes, of course. It's just..." There was an odd quality to Hermione's voice. "Well, it's just kind of odd leaving here." Ron seemed rather nonplussed, but Harry saw what she was getting at even before she'd continued. "I mean, it's just that this station's been such an important part of our lives, and it's going to be a long time before we're back here... Not until..." She blushed as her voice trailed off. Ron still seemed to be working out what she was hinting at, but to Harry it was clear as day. They wouldn't be returning to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters until they had children of their own to drop off on the Hogwarts Express. If they had children.

 _'No.'_ Harry thought as he looked at Ginny who'd joined in Hermione's nostalgic staring at the train. _'Definitely_ when _we have children.'_

The Burrow had changed very little since Harry had seen it last. Not long after Bill's wedding, it had begun to steadily return to it's more wild state, with bushes growing along the walls, and small, ugly gnomes frolicking in the sprawling garden. Harry very much preferred it this way; having grown up with the stifling neatness of the Dursley's, he knew better than anyone the value of a little mess.

They were enthusiastically greeted on the front steps by Mrs. Weasley, who hurried them into the kitchen. Much to Ron's delight, she'd prepared a large celebratory dinner. Harry was grateful as well- another result of his upbringing at the Dursley household was a strong appreciation of any meal (let alone one as generous and delicious as Mrs. Weasley's). As they sat themselves at the table, Mrs. Weasley set herself to interrogating Ginny and Hermione about their N.E.W.T.s. Hermione seemed thrilled to give the play-by-play of her exams, but Ginny seemed far less interested in the process of reliving them. She instead busied herself with conversation with her brother George and Harry about that year's Hogwarts Quidditch Cup, and what teams that she'd hoped to receive offers from.

"I sent my records sheet to the Harpies, but I don't have high hopes." She said frankly. "They've been building around Stautz for years, I don't think that they'll have much room for new prospects this year. I suppose the Arrows wouldn't be awful, but I don't know how much salary they have to throw around recruiting this season."

"The Wasps'll probably sign you a fat check if you're any good." George offered. "Mind you, you'll never see the pitch as they've started the same lineup for the last seven years straight... I reckon they're just throwing their wallet around to hamstring the competition. Still, money for nothing, right?"

Meanwhile, Hermione was still fretting over her exam results. "Ancient Runes went well, but I'm sure that I flunked the Transfiguration Practical." She said very quickly. "I might have enough extra credit from the written to cover it, but I'm still sure that I forgot to add my bit about the practical applications of partial human transfiguration. And on the Charms essay, I-"

"Hermione..." Ron said suddenly, cutting her off in mid sentence. "You already have a job lined up. Why does this even matter?"

"Because, Ron," She said firmly, taking on a tone that was startlingly reminiscent of Ron's older brother Percy. "This determines my _ceiling._ I may be starting off in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but I'll need to get higher than that to make a difference. The Department is sorely in need of restructuring, not to mention a new name. It's no wonder that Goblins and Centaurs are so sensitive about Wizards. They're just as smart as we are, and we go on about trying to _regulate_ and _control_ them like wild beasts. And that's to say nothing of House Elves. But I can't do anything for them if I lose all of my credibility and get a T in Charms!"

Ron shook his head and returned to his triple-decker sandwich that he'd concocted from two ham sandwiches and several extra slices of cheese. "Really, Hermione." He said disbelievingly in between large bites. "Only you could manage to stake the fake of Wizarding race relations on one test. But yeah, you're probably right. You only just helped beat You-Know-Who, I'm sure they'll chuck you out once they realize that you only got an E on your Transfiguration N.E.W.T."

After, a good half hour, they'd all eaten and talked themselves into a stupor. George had left to tend to shop in Diagon Alley. "That was great, Mum." Ginny gave a brief yawn. "I'm stuffed, I think I'll go wash up a bit." She winked at Harry as she left towards the stairs to her bedroom. Deciding that now was a good time as any, Harry sidled up behind Mrs. Weasley who was busy washing the dishes. As she waved her wand, they floated into the air, dunking themselves into the sink water and scrubbing themselves on sponges. Behind him, Harry saw Hermione concocting excuses about needing to go shopping for books to draw Ron out of the kitchen, and was once again very grateful for her consideration.

"Er... Mrs. Weasley..." He mumbled, wishing that he'd taken a moment to actually think about what he was about to say. "D'you mind if we talk for a moment?"

"Of course, Harry." She said cheerfully, briefly taking her eyes off the dishes.

Horrible images suddenly floated through Harry's brain. He could practically hear Mrs. Weasley shrieking at him about betrayal of trust. _'I thought of you like a son!'_ She sobbed in his mind's eye. Harry knew that this outcome was highly unlikely, but he couldn't stop the images in his mind's eye. And could he really be so sure? What if she _did_ say no and forbade Ginny from seeing him? He knew Ginny would never accept that, but could he accept being responsible for causing such a rift? As the nightmare scenarios spiraled further and further out of control and even more shouting emanated from a freshly conjured Mr. Weasley in his mind, he was shaken out his reverie by Mrs. Weasley's concerned voice. He realized that he must have been standing silently for nearly thirty seconds.

"Are you feeling quite all right Harry?" Mrs. Weasley said, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand. "You're sweating and looking a bit peaked. You don't think that you could've caught something abroad, dear? Let me go whip up some pepper-up potion, it won't take twenty minutes."

"No, no. I'm fine, it's just..." He took a deep breath and realized that there was nothing to be gained by stalling any further. "I've just got a place in Hogsmeade." He felt his mouth going dry. "And I've asked Ginny to move in with me."

Her face was unreadable for a moment. Then it shifted to surprise. Then the dishes that she'd been constructing all clashed to the floor and shattered as she threw herself over him. As Ginny had predicted, her hug was very tight, and somewhat wet. "OH, HARRY!" She sobbed uncontrollably. "Wait until I tell Arthur!"

As if summoned by the sound of his wife saying his name, Arthur Weasley burst through the door, looking alarmed. "Molly, what's going on? I'd just apparated into the yard, and I heard crashing and screaming." He took in the scene before him. "Molly, you might want to let Harry go. He's looking a bit... erm... Purple."

Sure enough, Harry felt a fresh supply of blood rushing back into his brain as Mrs. Weasley released him, tears still running down her face. He didn't care; her reassurance and approval meant far more to him than anything as menial as proper circulation.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry." Mrs Weasley said as she steadied herself. "It's just so wonderful. Finally having you a proper member of the family!" She beamed at him. "There's so much to do, we'll have to have you added to the clock, and we'd better get started planning the wedding!"

Harry blanched. He looked at Mr. Weasley, who appeared as confused as he was. "Oh no, Mrs. Weasley, I haven't... I mean... Not yet, er... Not that I won't... But I haven't..." Words failed yet Harry again. Was it customary for Witches and Wizards to get married before living together? Was it implicit that he'd already asked Ginny to marry him? Should he have? Not that he would mind... Harry felt himself going from pale white to red as he imagined it. He shook his head to drag himself back to reality so he could focus on extricating himself from the mess that he suddenly found himself in.

He attempted to speak again, but Mrs. Weasley was waving him down. "No, of course not, I didn't mean to pressure you... I'm sorry Harry, it's just that we've been waiting for so long for you two to say something, I must've gotten carried away. But with Ron and Hermione going along at the same rate you two are, we can expect two weddings around the same time. There's just so much planning, and I think it's best to be prepared when the time comes is all."

Relief once again washed over Harry before he picked something out of what she'd said. "Wait, if you've been waiting..." He said slowly. "Then you knew all along? About us?"

"Well, of course we did!" Mrs. Weasley beamed again. "You think a mother can't recognize a lovesick daughter? She barely ate a thing the year that you three went underground. And when she suddenly stopped dating other boys? Of course, she'd fancied you for so long, I don't blame her for wanting to keep it to herself for a bit. But all the same, we're so happy for you. Well, I think I'd best go help her pack her things." Mrs. Weasley gave Harry one last back-breaking hug before heading up the stairs, humming all the way.

Harry suddenly realized that he was alone with Mr. Weasley. He had never been alone with a girlfriend's father before, but he'd seen enough television shows and movies to know that it was not supposed to be a pleasant experience. Thankfully, Mr. Weasley seemed to sense Harry's growing apprehension and flash a brief, reassuring smile.

"Well,..." Mr. Weasley seemed to be buying himself time as he spoke by polishing his glasses. "I've known for a long time that I'd have to give this talk one time, and I must say that I'm quite relieved that it's with you, Harry." He winked and continued. "I suppose we can keep this brief, then."

Harry nodded, not sure what to expect. "Excellent." Mr. Weasley said. "Obviously, I want you to take care of Ginny. I've know you for long enough to know that that won't be an issue." Harry felt pride swelling at Mr. Weasley's words. "I know that you'll sacrifice everything for a loved one. And that's what I really want to talk to you about." His expression hardened, and he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I want you to keep yourself safe. You're still planning on joining the Auror Office, yes?" Harry nodded again. "I wouldn't expect any less of you, and I certainly won't try to dissuade you. Especially with the state that the Ministry is in now. But it's a rough job. You remember Alastor Moody, right?"

"Yeah." Harry said quietly. Moody had been disfigured both mentally and physically by his many long years as an auror. He'd lost an eye, a leg, and a significant portion of his nose, to say nothing of his trust in people.

"Of course, of course. What I'm trying to say is that half of the Aurors that avoid ending up like him only do so because they don't make it that far." Mr. Weasley suddenly looked exhausted. "You-Know-Who may be gone, but these are still dangerous times that we're living in. So from now on, I want you to be careful. No more reckless heroics. If you're in danger, you've got allies. I don't give a damn if it's top secret Auror business, you contact me and I'll be there immediately. You're one of us now, and we take care of our own... Even when that means taking care of our own. You understand?"

Harry nodded a final time. He'd been somewhat caught off guard, but he understood that there was no ill will or condescension in Mr. Weasley's words.

"Very good. Now, be sure to invite us over tea, won't you?"

"Yeah, definitely!" Harry again felt as though the world had been lifted off of his shoulders. He suddenly had a rather foolish urge to go outside and run laps around the house. He suppressed this urge as Ginny reappeared in the kitchen, dragging her trunk with Mrs. Weasley tailing behind her.

"Well, I suppose that you'd best be off." Mr. Weasley patted Harry on the shoulder as Mrs. Weasley gave Ginny a hug goodbye. "Best of luck to you, and er..." He leaned in closer to Harry and whispered, "I hope you've got a plan for food... She got a lot from her mother, but the cooking gene seems to skip a generation, if you get my drift." His whisper didn't seem to have been quiet enough, as he kissed a glaring Ginny on the cheek and waved them out the door.

As the approached the threshold of the lawn, Ginny gently took his hand. He took a moment to appreciate his good fortune as he felt his soft hand in hers.

"Well,... Shall we?" Ginny asked.

"Pardon?"

"I don't know where we're going, Harry." She smiled gently. "You'll want to take point on this."

"Ah, right. Sorry." Clasping her hand more tightly, he spun on the spot, bracing for the uncomfortable sensation of being pressed into nothing that always came along with apparition.

No sooner had he and Ginny appeared in front of their new home, than they were greeted by a high, raspy voice from around knee height. "Master, Harry, Mistress Ginevra!" Croaked Harry's House-Elf, Kreacher. "You've returned at last! Kreacher has prepared the home to your needs." Kreacher saluted enthusiastically.

"Thanks, Kreacher." Harry yawned. All things considered, it had been a rather exhausting day, and he was looking forward to a bit of reading by the fire before bed.

"And your timing is most fortuitous, Master, Harry, you have just received an urgent owl, not fifteen minutes ago!" Kreacher said. Harry's hopes for a quiet night with Ginny seemed to evaporate on the spot.

"From who?" He asked.

Kreacher looked mortified. "Read Master Harry's mail? No, Kreacher couldn't possibly... No, no, no. Kreacher must protect his Master's secrets... But the owl claimed to have orders to deliver it as soon as possible."

"Alright." Said Harry, who was by now used to Kreacher's eccentricities. Ginny was looking rather amused at Kreacher's claim to have spoken to an owl. "Can I have the letter then?"

"Of course, Master Harry." Kreacher responded, producing the letter from thin air.

Harry instantly recognized the enormous, messy handwriting before he'd even read the name; Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts, and another close friend.

"What does Hagrid need at this time of night?" Ginny asked, standing on her toes peer at the letter over Harry's shoulder.

"Dunno." Harry said, tearing open the letter. The handwriting was rather shaky as though Hagrid had been distraught while writing it. It read:

Harry,

Need to see you at my cabin soon as you can

Sorry to bother you, but it can't wait

Bring Ginny

Ron and Hermione to meet you on the path to the Castle

Love, Hagrid


	3. Chapter 3

"You don't think Hagrid could be in some kind of trouble, do you?" Ginny asked.

Harry mulled his thoughts over for a moment before answering. "You just saw him yesterday, right? How much trouble could he have gotten in since then?"

Ginny shot him a reproachful look, and Harry had to admit the obvious faults in his logic. While Hagrid was by far one of the kindest and most goodhearted people that Harry had ever met, he was also a Half-Giant with a penchant for adopting giant monsters. To put it lightly, he had a talent for attracting trouble second only to Harry's.

"Alright, fine." Harry sighed. He could see the fire that Kreacher had started crackling merrily through the window, but knew that it would have to wait just a bit longer. "We'd better get going… Kreacher, you don't have to wait up for us." The Elf gave an enthusiastic salute, and with a loud crack vanished from sight. Harry and Ginny set off through the village towards the path that led to Hogwarts Castle. As they approached the gate that marked the path, they heard a loud voice in the distance.

"You KNOW him, Hermione. All I'm saying is that is if this time has fangs or too many legs, I'm gone." Ron was gesticulating wildly as he shouted. "Remember the time his dragon bit me? Remember the time his giant spider tried to eat me and Harry? Remember the Skrewts? Remember when he tried to get you to babysit his savage giant of a brother? Hi, Harry." His tone suddenly shifted to a casual one as he saw his friend and sister approaching.

Hermione gave them a friendly wave before addressing Ron as they set off together toward the castle. "Well, Norbert and the Skrewts were pretty bad. And I never actually met the spiders." She said as impartially as though she thought that Harry and Ron's unfortunate run-in with Aragog could have been a simple misunderstanding that could've happened to anybody. " But Grawp isn't so bad anymore. Ginny and I actually spent a lot of time with him and Hagrid this year. His English is actually coming along quite well."

"Alright, but this had better be good to drag us all the way here when we were just about to-" His ears turned red and he fell silent upon a not-quite-subtle-enough elbow to the ribs from Hermione.

"Just about to what?" Ginny teased.

"We were about to watch a movie when Hagrid's owl came in." Hermione said, making a valiant attempt at hiding her own blush.

"What's a mov- OW!" Ron gasped after another sharp jab. "Oh yeah. A mover. We were going to watch a mover."

Ginny pressed no further, but Harry could tell that it was only her respect for Hermione that prevented her from needling Ron further. They continued to chat amongst themselves as they approached the Castle Grounds. Evidently, Ron and Hermione's letters had been nearly identical to the one sent to Harry and Ginny, the only difference being that Hermione's contained a rather ominous mention of an ' exciting surprise' in store for them. They amused themselves, continually creating more absurd scenarios about what kind of monster Hagrid could have obtained that would have gotten him so excited. This was brought to a halt when Ron suggested that Hagrid had bred a Basilisk, and Ginny went oddly quiet, leaving an uncomfortable void in the conversation.

As they drew closer, they all intently listened for the sounds of growling, gnashing teeth, or loud explosions. The cabin was completely silent, which Harry took as an encouraging sign.

Hermione tentatively reached out and knocked on Hagrid's door, her hand hovering still for just a moment before making contact. There was a sudden commotion as Hagrid's enormous hoarhound, Fang, charged to the door barking madly all the way. "Outta the way, down, Fang!" Hagrid's voice boomed through cracked windows. His voice sounded rather uneven and raspy.

As the door opened, Harry saw that Hagrid's eyes were unfocused and blotchy, and his normally untamed hair and beard were completely out of control. He did, however, manage a weak smile at them. "Lo. Evenin', come in." As he stepped aside to let them in, Harry caught sight of Hagrid's tankard on the table; it appeared that he'd mixed Champagne into a jug of Firewhisky, creating a mixture that spewed smoke to the ceiling and smelled rather strongly of burnt hair.

"Hagrid," Hermione said, a concerned edge in her voice, "Is everything all right?"

"What, Me?" Hagrid responded absently, seemingly forgetting that he'd invited them. "Never, better, never better." He stared out the window, leaving Hermione to look to the others for reinforcements.

"Hagrid, did you call us down here for a reason?" Harry asked bluntly, realizing that they'd get nowhere through subtlety.

"Hm? Yeah, I suppose I did…" Hagrid didn't look away from the window as he spoke. His voice trailed off into silence until Harry coughed loudly, prompting him to continue. "Where was I again?"

"You hadn't said anything yet." Harry's patience was beginning to wear thin; he'd been looking forward to this night for some time now, and so far it hadn't gone according to plan.

"Oh yeah." Hagrid finally tore his gaze away from the window. Harry suddenly noticed a familiar look in Hagrid's eyes that he couldn't quite place. "So yeh know that I've been seeing Olympe- Er, I suppose 'Madame Maxime' teh yeh- for a bit now, yeah?"

"Um… Yeah?" Harry said unsurely, hoping that he wasn't about to be asked for advice on handling a break-up. He had little experience in the area, and hadn't handled it well. He supposed that the only one in the room who had any authority on the subject was Ginny, and the last thing that he needed at the moment was an in-depth discussion of her ex-boyfriends.

Thankfully, Hagrid continued on his own this time around. "Well, I got a letter from her this afternoon." He let out a small hiccup. "Not quite sure how ter explain it… I'd show yer the letter, but it's… Well, it's not fer yer eyes." His eyes glazed over as he thought. "Yeah, best ter get it over with then. I'm gonna be a Poppy!"

His face suddenly cracked into an enormous grin. Hermione shrieked with surprised glee, while Ginny dropped the pot of tea that she'd been preparing. The news seemed to be severely disagreeing with Ron's worldview; his expression had gone totally blank. Harry understood the confusion; his brain had presented him with the image of a miniature (although still enormous) French-speaking Hagrid.

As soon as the shock had faded, they all ran in to surround Hagrid in a tight group hug. Hermione and Ginny were both firing off suggestions for names, none of which were likely to make the cut (Hermione's tended to be too long for Hagrid to pronounce easily, and most of Ginny's would have been silly for a cat, let alone a baby). Harry could practically see Ron sharing his wish that they'd show a bit more restraint when it came to the naming of their own children. Finally, Hermione had the sense to ask when the baby would be coming.

"Early next year, probably." Hagrid said. "Hard ter say fer sure. We're not exactly yer average set o' parents, yeh know?" Harry privately agreed. He had to wonder if the average man would have the strength to lift any baby of Hagrid and Madame Maxime's.

"O' Course, we'll have ter work out livin' arrangements… Timin' couldn' be better, with term just endin' and both of us havin' the summer holidays off. I reckon we'll travel a bit, sort things out. But you lot don' need ter worry, let me get yeh another round!"

He poured four glasses of his champagne and Firewhisky. Fortunately, it tasted much better than it smelled; he doubted that he would have had the heart to turn down the gesture in any case.

"Thank yeh all so much fer comin' down." Hagrid suddenly said halfway through his third tankard. "Talkin' helps. I mean, I'm happy, but I'm sacred, yeh know?" The smile that hadn't left his face since he broke his news drooped ever so slightly. "I don' know the firs' thing about bein' a dad. I was so young when me Old Man died, an' me Mum wasn't nobody to take after neither."

"You'll be excellent, Hagrid!" Shouted Harry, who was feeling much more gracious thanks to the combined effects of the good news and Hagrid's Firewhisky concoction. "You were the first person that I ever remember looking up to, you know."

Harry had mostly intended the statement to be a mere innocuous confidence boost, but it clearly meant much more than that to Hagrid. Hagrid mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and failed miserably at discreetly wiping his eyes on his tablecloth.

"Jus' wait until I tell Grawpy that he's gonna be an uncle! He'll be so happy!" Hagrid paused thoughtfully. "Course, I might have to be careful… I dunno how much he knows 'bout babies, and I don't need too many questions…" Very eager to avoid this line of discussion, Harry mixed Hagrid another drink and quickly changed the subject.

As midnight drew nearer, they bade Hagrid goodnight. He'd drunk himself into a stupor- no mean feat at his size. Hermione tucked Hagrid into his bed, where he'd collapsed and was now mumbling blissfully into his pillow. They all walked on tip-toes to the door (despite it being unlikely that he'd wake if they set fire to his bed), and stepped outside. There was a brief moment of silence as they set off towards the castle before Hermione spoke.

"My goodness." She said slowly, as though she didn't know where to begin. "Well, that certainly wasn't what I was expecting. I really hope that Hagrid knows what he's in for…"

"Nah, he'll be a great dad." Harry spoke much more confidently than he felt. Being an orphan he felt the least qualified to appraise this, but he felt the need to stand up for Hagrid anyway. "He can handle himself."

"No, of course!" Hermione said hastily. "I love Hagrid as much as anybody else, it's just that…" She seemed to be struggling to find the right words. "Look, all I'm saying is that babies are fragile. And he's… Well, he's Hagrid." Harry tried his best not to think about all of the unfortunate objects that he'd seen Hagrid sit on over the years.

"You worry too much, Hermione." Ron seemed much happier now that he knew for certain that he wasn't going to be asked to take on a pet Blast-Ended Skrewt. "This is Hagrid and Madame Maxime that we're talking about here. Any baby of theirs is going to be pretty damn durable."

Hermione didn't seem completely reassured, but didn't voice any more worries on their trek back to Hogsmeade. The conversation dwindled quickly, as they were all exhausted from such a long and busy day. Once they reach the gate that marked the point where Hogwarts' anti-disapparation spell would lift, Ron and Hermione offered a hasty goodbye and disapparated.

Harry and Ginny walked back to the house quickly, both eager for a good night's rest. As they closed in on the threshold, Harry felt nerves creeping into his guts. He suddenly wished that he'd opted for a bigger house. As they opened the door and stepped inside, Harry heard a soft gasp from beside him.

"Wow, Harry… This is wonderful." Kreacher had outdone himself with the furnishing Harry had asked for. The walls were tastefully decorated with pictures of Harry's family, the Weasley's, and Harry and Ginny's friends from Hogwarts. In front of the still-crackling fire were two puffy armchairs, very reminiscent of the ones in the Gryffindor Common Room that Harry was so fond of.

"It's not the biggest house, but there's plenty of room to expand if we want to." Harry said, internally whooping with delight at Ginny's approval. "Kreacher's brought your things up to the second bedroom, over that way." He gestured down the hall, but Ginny merely gave him an amused smile.

"Harry, are you trying to be a gentleman, or are you just thick?"

"Er… Pardon?" Harry realized his faux pas just a moment before she spoke again.

"A bit of both, then, I suppose… Harry, we've as good as been going out for over two years now. It's nice of you not to be presumptive, but if I'm going to live here with you then I'm not going to sleep in the guest bedroom."

Harry's heart was beating a mile a minute. "Right, then." He cracked a smile. "I'll take the guest bedroom, you take the master?"

She giggled, but Harry had a feeling that she wasn't laughing at his joke. His heart rate crept even higher as she took his hand and guided him up the stairs toward the master bedroom. " _Accio trunk!"_ Ginny said, giving her wand a small wave. Her trunk lazily floated out from the second bedroom and followed them up the stairs.

Harry guided her to the door. Upon opening it, he was greeted with a bit of a shock. On the wall opposing the bed, hung an enormous portrait. It depicted a standing Harry, his left leg raised on a crate; with one hand on a seated Ginny's shoulder, and the other resting triumphantly on his hip. The portrait's Harry looked strangely barrel-chested and overly masculine, and Harry couldn't help but notice that the fake Ginny's smile was too serene, and missing it's usual mischievous edge. He could see from a small signature in the corner that Kreacher had painted it himself. The craftsmanship was actually rather impressive, despite everything else. Fortunately, Kreacher didn't seem to have enchanted it to move like most of the pictures and paintings in the Wizarding World.

"Ugh…" Harry groaned. "That might have to go…"

"Oh, it isn't so bad." Ginny said. Harry could tell that she was trying her best to suppress laughter as she examined the portrait more closely. "He must have spent weeks on this…"

As she turned away from the painting and stripped out of her robes to change into her nightgown, Harry tried not to stare. He knew he'd done a bad job, but she didn't seem to care. As he pulled on his own pyjamas and slipped into the bed next to her, he mulled over his day. All in all, he was happier than he could remember being in years. Umbridge had finally gotten what was coming to her, Harry had received the Weasley's blessing, and Hagrid was going to have the family that Harry knew he'd always yearned for. Staring at the back of Ginny's head as she began to snore next to him, he appreciated the numbing warmth of the Firewhisky coursing through his system, and the even more intoxicating smell of Ginny's hair. As he dozed off, he wondered vaguely if there was anything in the world that could possibly ruin his mood.


	4. Chapter 4

The Answer to Harry's idle musings came very soon before the break of dawn, when he was woken by Kreacher shouting. This was not entirely unusual; while he'd become much more well-adjusted thanks to Harry's company, Kreacher was still prone to fits of muttering and shouting to himself. What _was_ unusual, that there was another voice responding to Kreacher's croaky shouts. It took Harry a moment to wake up and realize what he was hearing. By the time he'd become fully alert, Ginny was already sitting straight up, listening intently with her wand drawn at the ready.

"Stay here." Harry whispered, crawling out of bed and dressing himself as quickly as he could. "I'll go see what's going on."

She looked for a moment like she wanted to argue, but nodded slowly anyway. She kept her wand prepared all the same.

As Harry opened the bedroom door, Kreacher's shouts and the responding voice became clearer. Harry could now hear that it belonged to a woman, and a familiar one at that.

"You come crawling to Master Harry's house in disguise to steal secrets!" Kreacher screamed. Harry was grateful for the lack of neighbors immediately on either side of his house. "You cannot fool Kreacher, not with your insect disguises, nor with your lies!"

"Now, really." The woman's voice was dripping with flattery. "Such loyalty… Admirable even by Elf standards. But I'm an old friend, surely Harry wouldn't mind if you gave me a quick word?"

"NO!" Kreacher protested violently. "You will leave now, or Kreacher will have no choice but to remove you by force!"

The flattering quality immediately dropped from the woman's voice. "That's enough, Elf. I am a visitor to this house. You'll fetch me the master of this household right now.

"It's fine, Kreacher." Harry stepped down the last few stairs, into clear view of the front door. There stood Kreacher, arms spread wide to deny entry to the witch and wizard outside. Rita Skeeter stood on the threshold, her trademark acid green self-writing quill scratching away on a notepad that floated in midair next to her. She was accompanied by a rather short wizard, who Harry recognized as her photographer. Fortunately, the camera hung at his side for the moment.

"Master Harry! So sorry to wake you, but Kreacher caught these two snooping around the yard." Kreacher's eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. "The foul woman had disguised herself as a bug and tried to reach your window, and the dirty man tried to hide in the bushes. Until Kreacher forced them out into the open, of course…" Kreacher's tirade faded into mumbling that was unintelligible aside from the occasional curse word.

"Thanks, Kreacher." Harry said. "I'll handle things from here. You did good, now get some rest." Kreacher gave an enthusiastic nod before immediately falling over backwards. His snores were sounding off before he'd even hit the floor.

"Odd, little thing, isn't he?" Rita said. "But enough of that, I've been looking for a word for some time now. Can I come in? For old time's sake?"

"No." Harry said coldly. "You can't." While it was true that she'd written one very helpful piece at his behest in his fifth year, she'd only cooperated when Hermione had threatened to out her as an unregistered animagus. And aside from that one piece, Rita had printed a good deal of unfounded personal accusations and damaging falsehoods against Harry and many of his friends. Rita had an unfortunate

knack for finding out just enough of the truth to cause some damage, and then letting it run wild. "What do you want, Rita?"

"Oh, Harry, you're so much fiercer than you were as a boy! What's done it? Emotional trauma from your flight from The Dark Lord? Bottled up angst from the murder of your parents? Or maybe something as menial as a bout of lovesickness?"

Harry said nothing in response. He'd long since learned that any response given to Rita Skeeter would be used as kindling for whatever narrative she was attempting to create.

"No comment?" There was a very slight edge of disappointment in Rita's voice, but it passed quickly. "Alright, alright. To business, then. I think that it's about time for the readers of the Daily Prophet to know where you were in the year before The Dark Lord fell. Where was 'The Chosen One' when we needed him most? What could have possibly driven him into hiding while the rest of the world suffered?"

Harry had been dreading this moment for some time now. He, Ron, and Hermione had decided shortly after Voldemort's demise that their quest to destroy the shredded fragments of The Dark Lord's soul should remain a secret. Dumbledore had placed a firm ban on the discussion of Horcruxes during his time as Headmaster. If this ban had been effected earlier and more efficiently, Voldemort may have never been able to achieve his incredible longevity. In keeping with this spirit, the three of them had only told the full truth about the Hercules and the Deathly Hallows to Ginny, and their other close friends Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. The rest of the world would have to settle for the version of events that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had cooked up in the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts.

"We were scouting." Harry said, trying not to sound overly rehearsed. "You know, looking for weaknesses in Voldemort's organization, gathering allies, practicing dueling techniques, you get the idea."

"I see." Said Rita, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "And what led you to reveal yourself at Hogwarts? What benefit could have possibly outweigh the countless young lives that you put at risk by attracting You-Know-Who to the school? Was it simple negligence, or was there something hidden at Hogwarts that you needed?"

Harry had no desire to answer the question, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Rita knew more than she was letting on, and she was uncomfortably close to the truth as is. "We just figured that the time was right to hit back. Hogwarts was the only place with the protection to give us time to rally our forces.. We knew that it'd also buy us enough time to evacuate the students. So, you see, we didn't really have many options."

"Right." Rita was had produced a second notepad, and was checking over notes that she'd written beforehand. "So that really just leaves one thing…" She flashed a nasty smirk. "What can you tell me about the Dark Lord's Horcruxes?"

Harry's stomach dropped. He tried to mask any sign of recognition at the word, but he knew he'd failed when he saw Rita's ugly smirk growing wider. "Pardon?" He said, trying to buy time and maybe figure out exactly how much she knew.

"Come now, Harry." Rita said. "I'm a journalist. What do you think I've been doing this past year while I waited for you to resurface? I've got two books in the works, one for You-Know-Who, and one for yourself. Of course I wanted to have them out sooner to capitalize on the mania when you first triumphed, but I think that I can make up for lost time. I won't disclose my sources, but I have very reliable information about the Dark Lord's seeming to be unnaturally protective of certain items and locations. This struck me as quite odd; I'm sure that you know as well as anybody that the Dark Lord wasn't known for his sentimentality. So I took this knowledge to one of my contacts with expertise in Dark Magic, and he told me about an interesting piece of old magic… A way to split the soul into pieces, and ensure that the creator can't be killed until all of the pieces are destroyed. Explains everything rather neatly, don't you think? Why the Dark Lord wasn't killed nineteen years ago when his killing curse rebounded off of you? What you and your little friends were up to when you went into hiding?"

Her self-satisfied smirk was really beginning to irritate Harry; if it hadn't been for the silent presence of the photographer, he would have been sorely tempted to jinx her.

"And of course," Rita continued, "He would have hidden a piece of his soul at Hogwarts. There would be nowhere safer, given that it was at the time his stronghold, guarded by his most trusted general in Severus Snape."

Harry knew that he'd been beaten. He could deny all he wanted, but she would publish anyway, and the damage would be done.

"You can't print that." Harry said firmly. "I know your secret, remember? You put that out, and I'll go public about you being an unregistered animagus."

Harry had expected Rita's smile to turn sour upon being threatened, but on the contrary it only grew brighter. "Oh, I take it you haven't heard the happy news, then?" She gleefully drank in Harry's puzzled expression. "I've registered myself. A bit restrictive, but well worth it to have my freedom to write as I please back. You have nothing to threaten me with now."

Harry let out a tired sigh. This put him in an uncomfortable position; the only recourse left would have been previously unthinkable, but here he was. "Please, Rita." Harry hated himself for groveling, but he had to try. "This is serious Dark Magic. Voldemort may be dead, but there are others out there who could abuse it. I'll do anything., just don't put that out."

Rita seemed slightly taken aback by his sudden change of tone, but pleased all the same. "Sorry, Harry. I've just had my one-on-one interview with 'The Chosen One.' That's all I really want from you right now. Besides, the people have a right to know. You don't decide what makes the papers and what sells books. I think it's high time that you learned that lesson, Potter. As your dear Professor Dumbledore used to say, it's 'for the greater good."

Harry's stomach turned at the phrase, but he was cut off before he could answer.

"Yeah, if the greater good means a couple of extra galleons in your pocket." Ginny said venomously from behind Harry. She must have been listening at the stairs and been unable to stay in hiding any longer. Rita's eyes bulged out of her skull, lingering on Ginny's brilliant red hair.

"You… You must be a Weasley! Arthur Weasley's only daughter?" She rounded on Harry, her smile more sickening than ever. "Really, Harry… Your best friend's sister? How delightfully borderline-incestuous! Don't just stand there Bozo!" She snapped at her photographer. "This is a cover story in itself, get moving!"

Harry had just enough time to throw up his hand to block his face and hopefully some of Ginny from the camera, but he wasn't sure how much good it would do once the picture was developed to be able to move.

"So, are we living together," Rita continued, "Or just a one night stand?"

"None of your business." Ginny's voice was icy. "Leave now, or I'll hex you."

"Oh, I like you, Girlie…" Rita snarled. "Just like him, y don't know when to quit. You and I are going to have fun, I can tell." She turned on her heel and gestured for the cameraman to follow. "But I have everything I need. I'll be seeing the both of you around, I'm sure."

Harry watched them head down the road towards the village and out of sight. "You should've let me handle her." Harry said quietly.

"Hmph." Ginny folded her arms. "I'm done hiding. I'd kind of hoped to keep things under wraps until Quidditch League contracts came out so I could be sure that I wasn't being brought on as 'The Chosen One's Girlfriend,' but so be it. I won't hide and let her talk to you like that. Whatever contract they send me, I'll just have to make sure that I earn it." The hard, determined look on her face reminded Harry of the first time that she'd kissed him.

Her expression softened as she continued. "Besides, it might be for the best. I think that it's about time people knew that you were taken. I'm getting sick of girls making eyes at you when we go out."

As they were both too worked up to even think about going back to sleep, they set about their day. As Kreacher was still passed out at the door, Harry carefully moved him to the couch and began frying up some eggs and toast while Ginny took some time to explore the layout of the house.

The morning post arrived as they chatted over breakfast. There were two packages stamped with the Ministry of Magic seal carried by a Great Grey Owl, one large box carried by a Tawny, and a rolled letter attached to a Barred Owl. Harry started by focusing on the Ministry boxes. There was one addressed to him, and one for Ginny. He tossed Ginny hers, and used his wand to slice his open. It contained a letter and a small silver badge that read:

Ministry of Magic Auror

Harry Potter

Authority 3

Harry looked over, to see Ginny turning a similar badge over in her hand; hers was nearly identical, except for the name. Not entirely sure what that could mean, he turned to the letter.

Mr. Harry Potter

Contained in this package is your badge of office. It is of the utmost importance that you do not allow anybody else to touch it. In order to prevent impersonation via Polyjuice Potion or other means, all Auror badges carry powerful curses that will afflict any individual not qualified to hold the badge. In order to allow you to best perform your duty, you have been granted third authority, which will allow you access to nearly all Ministry investigations and files. Please report to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on the second level of Ministry Of Magic Headquarters two days from now for further orientation.

Sincerely,

Edgar Rowedder, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Head Auror

"Woah, I wasn't expecting a badge or anything." Ginny said incredulously. "Luna's going to be miffed that she passed on taking one of these, she won't be able to get all the Ministry's classified info on Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, probably for the best though. Can you imagine the havoc she could cause if she had access to everything the Ministry's ever done?"

"You're a fine one to talk." Ginny said. "Since when have you been one to care about keeping government secrets? Remember when you led a group of teenagers to break in and wreck the entire Department of Mysteries? I'm surprised that they even let you through the doors at this point."

"Fair enough." Harry said. "But that reminds me… I haven't heard from Luna in a bit. If she's not joining the Ministry, has she decided what she's doing yet?"

"She's thinking about taking up an Apprenticeship at Ollivander's." Ginny said. "After the last few years he's been thinking about retirement, not that I blame him. I expect he's looking for somebody to take over the business for him."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. Mr. Ollivander, the master wand craftsman who'd made Harry's own wand, had recently spent several years in Lord Voldemort's captivity where he underwent severe tortures at the hand of the Dark Lord himself. While trapped, he'd met Luna Lovegood, who he had seemed to have taken a shine to. While he wouldn't have predicted this turn of events, Harry had to admit that it made some sense. From what little he understood of Wandlore, it seemed to be a mix of unproven theory and intuition that would surely appeal to Luna Lovegood.

Harry moved onto the next package, also addressed to him. He cut it open like the first, and was surprised to see that it contained several boxes of chocolate frogs, and a letter.

"No way…" Ginny said, her jaw dropping. "It couldn't be… Go on, open one!"

Puzzled, Harry took one of the boxes and opened it. It looked like a perfectly normal chocolate frog to him.

"Not the frog, you tremendous prat!" Ginny groaned. "And they're going to send you out to catch Dark Wizards? Merlin's soggy bloomers, the card, check the card!" Harry did as she said and was surprised to see his own face grinning back at him. The blurb read:

Harry Potter

1980-Present

Know as the only survivor of the Killing Curse, and Vanquisher of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Noted Quidditch enthusiast.

"You lucky bastard…" Ginny mumbled enviously. "Wait, if you're here… Don't tell me…" She ripped another package opening, tossing the frog aside. "Oh no…" She groaned as she held out the enclosed card for harry to see. It showed a picture of Ron, grinning as widely as the first time Hermione had kissed him. "He's going to be insufferable… Well, even more than usual, anyway." Ginny groaned. "Is there one in there for Herm- ACK!"

Ginny shouted fell backwards off the stool she'd been sitting on as Ron appeared in the middle of the room with a loud crack.

"HARRY!" Ron bellowed. "DID YOU SEE THEM? AHA! This has got to be the happiest day of my life!" He was laughing like a madman, apparently not having noticed Ginny lying on the floor. Harry rushed over to help her up. She looked like she was about to tell him off, but before she could even open her mouth, the door flew front open with a crash.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" Hermione shouted from the door. She was panting as though she'd just sprinted down the street, and her already bushy was was frazzled and standing on end. The full effect was quite frightening, Harry thought. "YOU DO NOT APPARATE INSIDE OTHER PEOPLE'S HOUSES WITHOUT PERMISSION!" She continued screaming. "YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN, AND I WILL JINX- Oh, hello Ginny. Harry…" She blushed slightly, evidently just having noticed that they were there. "Lovely news about the cards, no?"

"Oh yeah, it's pretty cool." Harry said awkwardly.

"Pretty cool?" Ron said incredulously. "This is our crowning achievement, this is." Harry was quite sure that Ron would have kissed the card if he wasn't concerned about ruining the collector's value. "And they're self-updating too. It's all int he letter. They use a protean charm on the Master Card to update them if we do anything else, it's all in the letter. Neville's got one in there too. For standing up to You-Know-Who and killing his snake. Not that they know anything about it being a Horcrux, but it was still a pretty great moment."

"Well, they'll know pretty soon." Harry said darkly. He recounted his encounter with Rita Skeeter. By the time he'd finished, Ron looked considerably more somber.

"No way." He said. "After all that work we put in to hush it up, she's just going to blow the story up like that?"

"Yeah." Harry said. "I can't think of anything that'll stop her. We could go public about her learning to be an Animagus before she actually registered, but I doubt that the punishment'll be as harsh now that she's gone through the channels. And then we'll have to come clean that we've basically been covering for her so we could blackmail her. And to top it all off, it won't stop the story getting out in the end."

"This might cheer you up, Harry." Ginny had been opening the last letter. "It's from Andromeda Tonks. She's going to be in the area shopping later this afternoon, and she wants to know if you'd like Teddy for a couple of hours."

This did cheer Harry up a bit; Teddy Lupin was Harry's God-son, and the son of two of his close friends who'd been killed in Voldemort's last stand. Teddy currently lived with his maternal grandmother.

"That's great," Harry said. "I'll write back and let her know. We can do our errands and be back in time to take him."

"And _we'll_ be going." Hermione said, seemingly more to Ron than anybody else. "Mrs. Weasley made a lovely breakfast that _somebody_ apparated out on, and we'll have to make that up to her." Without another word, she turned and marched out the door. Ron followed, shrugging as if to apologize for her behavior.

"How do those two make it work?" Ginny said, sounding rather amused.

"Beats me." Harry said, gulping down the last of his pumpkin juice. "I'm always surprised that they're on speaking terms after all this time, so I guess that shows what I know. We'd better get going, we'll need to rent an owl at the post office.

Stowing the dishes in the sink, they set off into the village; the walk was just long enough to give them some privacy, but not long enough as to be unpleasant. They made the post office their first stop, ensuring that the letter confirming that they'd like to see Teddy would arrive in time, then set out to the rest of the village. They stopped in briefly to see the spot where George was building the second location of his joke shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. George appeared to be away; they did however see a sign promising an opening by the start of next term at Hogwarts.

After poking around picking up the various essentials and sundries that they'd be needing, Harry and Ginny made their way to Gaucher's Animal Inventory. Harry had been putting off replacing his faithful owl Hedwig for some time now, but he couldn't deny that he missed the company and convenience of having an owl handy. Once inside, Ginny instantly bonded herself to a small male burrowing owl who seemed to have a somewhat surly expression on his face at all times. She wasted no time at all in naming him Archibald (or Archie for short). Harry picked himself a rather regal looking great-horned owl, who he quickly named Priscilla before Ginny could pipe in with advice.

Happy with their selections, they made their way back home. Once they'd gotten their owls settled in and adjusted in the third bedroom, they sat down in the living room to read as they waited for Andromeda.

About an hour later, Mrs. Tonks arrived at the front door, Teddy in one arm and a large traveling bag in the other. "Thank you so much for taking him, I'll be back before dinner so we can catch the Knight Bus back. There's food in the bag. Don't mind if he tries to stand and falls down, he's been trying to walk, but he's a bit late. And fair warning, he's taken to changing his hair and face every ten minutes or so." Teddy was a metamorphmagus; a skill he'd inherited from his mother that allowed him to change his appearance with ease. He'd presently settled on a round chin and violently yellow hair. With a cheery wave, Andromeda handed Teddy off to Harry and set off to the village.

It was at precisely this moment that Harry realized that he'd never been alone in charge of a baby before. He looked awkwardly at Teddy for a moment before setting him down to sit on one of the armchairs. This turned out to be a tremendous mistake- the moment that he left Harry's arms, he began to shriek uncontrollably. Instantly, Ginny swooped out of nowhere to pick him up again. "Aw, did mean old Harry put you down?" She cooed. His tears began to fade almost as soon as she'd lifted him. "Here, you take him back." She said as she passed him to Harry. "I'm going to get the camera so we can have some pictures. She disappeared up the stairs, leaving Harry alone and feeling rather helpless.

Teddy seemed to catch Harry's eye- the two made eye contact for about a full moment before Teddy's face began to shift. It was a rather bizarre experience, watching the baby's hair growing outward and darken until-

Harry heard a sudden gasp from Ginny on the stairway, followed by a burst of laughter from both her and Teddy. Teddy had copied Harry's thin face and green eyes; he'd even gotten the scar and messy hair exactly right. Harry had the strange impression that he was looking into some kind of funhouse mirror.

"Turn him this way, I want a picture of this." Ginny said, still laughing. After she took the picture, she lowered the camera and walked closer to them until she was shoulder to shoulder with Harry. There was a rather curious expression on her face. She stood there silently for a moment before speaking.

"You know Harry…" She said slowly. "You look really good holding a baby. I really like it." She waited a moment for the look on Harry's face to show that he'd registered what she'd said, and quickly raised the camera to arm's length and snapped a picture of them, giggling mischievously. Harry pretended to sulk for the sake of his image, but he knew that as soon as he had an office at the Ministry, he'd be needing a copy of that picture to hang.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry awoke on the day he was to start work at the Ministry with equal parts nervousness and excitement. The spot in the bed next to him was empty, indicating that Ginny had already gone downstairs. Sure enough, he found her at the kitchen table, poring over the day's newspaper.

"Morning, Harry." Ginny said brightly. "Rita's article is out, have a look." Harry grimaced as he took the paper from her saw the the picture of himself and Ginny that Rita's photographer had taken days before. His photographic self was still attempting in vain to block the shot, and Ginny was scowling ferociously. He took a deep breath and began to read.

POTTER'S WEASLEY WOES

By Rita Skeeter

"Hmm… Catchy." Harry said sarcastically.

"Go on, it's not all that bad, actually." Ginny said. Harry grunted disbelievingly before continuing on.

 _Harry Potter seeks love again; a line that should be familiar to us all by now. As all of my faithful readers should know by now, Harry Potter is more than the brave face that he's showed us all so many times over the years; beneath the facade is a deep thirst for affection (likely rooted in abandonment issues caused by his parents' murder), and that facade appears to be rapidly crumbling. As I've taken the liberty to inform my readers who take concern in his well-being, Harry has been unfortunate in his many romantic pursuits. From his possibly Love Potion induced dalliance with longtime friend Hermione Granger, to a junior student at Hogwarts (who will remain anonymous to protect her) who claims to have seduced him in his sixth and final year at Hogwarts, Harry seems prone to fits of poor decision making where his love life is concerned. Possibly chief among these ill-advised flings was with Cho Chang, who was said to be dating Cedric Diggory (a close friend of Harry Potter's) at the time of his death at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Apparently unable to control his teenage impulses, Harry moved on the grieving girl only months later, beginning an ill-advised relationship that would last only weeks._

 _As much as I regret dragging up Harry's painful past yet again, it is unfortunately necessary to provide context for The Boy Who Lived's current circumstances. Through a combination of carefully curated sources, killer investigative instinct, and sheer guile, this Daily Prophet reporter has uncovered Harry Potter's latest doomed infatuation; one Ginevra 'Ginny' Weasley._

 _The Weasley name should be very familiar with followers of Harry's story; for years, he's rarely been seen outside the company of the families youngest son Ronald, prompting new rumors about the true nature of Harry's many failed attempts at romance. Ginevra and Ronald count themselves among the nine children of Arthur Weasley, noted Ministry oddball and Muggle enthusiast._

 _Harry has been close to the Weasley family since he first returned to the Wizarding Community nine years ago. My expert contacts say that this may be the root of poor Harry's confused feelings for the young Ms. Weasley. "It's not entirely unheard of in the cases of affection-starved children to attempt to reciprocate familial love… Inappropriately." Says one Professional. "Quite disturbing, but not unheard of." So there you have it; a desperate young boy meets an attractive peer who treats him like a brother (and bears an uncomfortable resemblance to his mother), and the rest is history._

 _It would seem that her willingness to prey upon an obviously confused war hero is only the tip of the iceberg for Ms. Weasley. Interviews with her former classmates at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry paint a much darker picture of her foul temperament and infatuation with the Dark Arts._

 _"She put a nasty jinx on me on the train to school one time." Says one classmate who wished to remain unnamed for fear of retaliation. "Just for asking questions, she cursed me. And there are some nasty rumors about what she got up to in her first year at Hogwarts. But she was popular with the teachers, so she never got in any trouble."_

 _"She was always good with curses." Said another classmate who also requested to have her name withheld. "Jealous, too. She'd fancied Harry for years, and she'd get all sulky for weeks whenever she thought he was going out with somebody else. I wouldn't put it past her to do something nasty now that she's got him locked down."_

 _Ginevra was a member of the now legendary Dumbledore's Army, although it would appear that she chose not to put her reportedly considerable dueling ability to use in the Battle of Hogwarts with the rest of the group. She was reported to be in hiding during the first half of the battle, but emerged during the cease-fire, after which she seems to have been unable to return to her hiding place._

 _It is currently unknown how Ginevra's brother Ronald feels about her relationship with his best friend. When approached for comment, Mr. Weasley's expression was as impenetrably vacant as ever, and the brief statement that he issued was unfortunately unfit to be printed in a family-oriented newspaper._

 _Surely if there is any justice left in the world, this relationship will be short-lived and Harry will be able to find his true soulmate. However, for now, those of us who count ourselves friends of Harry Potter must simply wait and hope that he escapes her clutches without any further emotional scarring._

Harry looked at Ginny, his mouth hanging open slightly. "Not that bad? Are you mental? It's a complete hatchet job! She's got you made out as some sort of jealous psychopath!"

Ginny shrugged noncommittally. "I really don't see the problem. Anybody who's daft enough to take Rita Skeeter seriously at this point isn't worth impressing anyway. And like I said the other day, I'm done hiding. Rita's got one thing right; now that word is out, anybody who makes moves on you is getting hexed, and it's time people knew it."

Harry wasn't sure how serious she was but thought better of pressing the issue.

"Alright, fine," Harry said. "What about all this about me being some kind of predatory nutcase who can't control his hormones?"

"Yeah, a spot of bad luck there." Ginny said. Her sympathy seemed genuine enough, but Harry couldn't help but notice that she was grinning slightly. "C'mon, Harry. It's like I said; nobody who's ever met you is going to take this seriously, and who cares about the rest of them?"

This outlook cheered Harry up somewhat. "How'd you get so smart about his kind of stuff?" He asked. To his surprise, Ginny's face turned a rare shade of scarlet that he hadn't seen in some time.

"Well, to be honest…" She said. "Well, don't laugh, but I've kind of had time to think about it. I've been thinking about how I'd deal with that article coming out since I was eleven years old."

"Alright, alright." Harry said, his spirits now greatly lifted. "Just don't open any mail that you don't recognize, yeah?" Having unfortunately had a fair amount of experience with Rita Skeeter's articles, Harry was all too familiar with the influx of angry (and sometimes cursed) post that the subjects always seemed to receive.

"That reminds me!" Ginny excitedly turned to the rest of the day's mail. "These have just arrived. I expect that they must be offers." She said, holding up one of several large sealed envelopes bearing the seal of the British and Irish Quidditch League. She tore it open, and quickly peeked inside. "Ugh, the Falcons." She tossed it aside without even looking at it."

All in all, she'd received six letters. As George had predicted several days beforehand, the Wimbourne Wasps had given her a healthy offer of fourteen thousand galleons over three years. She discarded this along with the Falcons offer. This left her with an offer for four thousand galleons for one year from the Kenmare Kestrels, and offers to meet and discuss options with the coaches of the Holyhead Harpies, Ballycastle Bats, Montrose Magpies, and Chudley Cannons. Looking slightly overwhelmed, Ginny decided to hold off on her decision until she'd met with all of the coaches.

"Can you imagine Ron's face if I got signed to the Cannons, though?" She grinned.

"Ginny, you're not going to make a habit of making career choices based off what'll annoy Ron the most, right?" Harry asked. Ginny simply shrugged in a way that he didn't find particularly reassuring. They ate breakfast in relative silence, both having a fair amount to consider.

"Say.." Harry said midway through breakfast. "Rita didn't mention the Horcruxes in her article." With everything else that he'd had on his mind, he'd completely forgotten the primary reason that he'd had for dreading the article's release.

"Hm… Yeah, I guess not." Ginny said. "Maybe you convinced her that it was best kept a secret?"

Despite her sage advice only minutes beforehand, Harry knew that Ginny didn't really understand Rita Skeeter as he did. "No, I don't think so." He said. "She doesn't care about consequences as long as papers get sold. I'd bet anything that she's just waiting for her moment…"

Before he knew it, it was time for him to leave. Ginny kissed him on the cheek for good luck as she straightened his robes, and then he was off.

After the defeat of Lord Voldemort, security had been greatly relaxed at the Ministry. Apparition and Floo Powder could now be used to directly access the Ministry Atrium. Harry felt the familiar compression as he turned on the spot, and in an instant he was in the bustling lobby of the Ministry of Magic where he'd be meeting Ron. Nobody payed him much mind, as they all seemed to have their own business to attend to.

Harry was only waiting for several moments before Ron arrived, looking rather pale and clammy. "Right. So, this is it then." Ron said, smiling nervously. "We did it, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Harry suddenly felt vastly under qualified for the job he'd taken. He'd never been a particularly good student, and he hadn't even attended his last year of schooling. How could he possibly expect to keep up with the most brilliant wizards and witches of the age? Looking next to him, he could tell that Ron was having similar thoughts. Deciding that there was nothing to be gained by further loitering around worrying, Harry gestured toward the security wizard who would inspect their wands and allow them into the Ministry proper. Wordlessly, they walked to the lift that would take them to the Auror Office. As he pressed the bottom to take them to the next floor down, he withdrew the old fake Galleon that Hermione had enchanted to function as a means of communication for Dumbledore's Army members. It had been years since he'd actually made use of it, but over the last year he'd taken to rubbing it for luck in times of stress. As they descended, a woman's smooth voice announced their arrival at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and nothing could have prepared them for what awaited them inside.

"Morning, Harry. Ron."

" _Neville?_ " Harry and Ron said in unison. Waiting for them outside of the steel lift Neville Longbottom, a fellow Dumbledore's Army member, and former dorm mate of Harry and Ron's.

Neville didn't seem offended by their shock. On the contrary, he laughed heartily. "I know, right? Me? An auror? I never saw it coming either. But Kingsley came by and asked personally not long after the battle with You-Know-Who. Said he was 'impressed by the leadership I'd shown that year,' or something like that. You should've seen the look on Gran's face… I'm pretty sure it's what she'd always hoped for me, but there was no way with my marks… Anyway, I'll be showing you guys around." He finished. "Just wait 'til you see who else is here."

Neville led them into the room; it was long, and comprised of two rows of cubicles, each occupied by a single auror. Neville walked them down the aisle, chatting happily and introducing them to their new peers; Harry recognized a few faces from his time at school, although there were few people that he knew by name. Among those were other fellow DA members Michael Corner (Harry felt a thoroughly irrational twinge of jealousy at the sight of Ginny's ex-boyfriend) and Terry Boot. As the passed through and Neville made introductions, Harry couldn't help but notice that there were as many empty cubicles as there were occupied ones.

The biggest surprise of the day, however, sat in a cubicle near the back of the room, wearing robes of an astonishing purple shade.

"Blimey…" Ron whispered to Harry. "Have I lost it? I must have lost it, right? This can't be for real."

"I think you've lost it." Harry confirmed. "And me too…"

Sitting before them, busily engaged in scribbling notes on a scrap of parchment was a handsome wizard with a full head of curly gold hair.

"Morning, Gilderoy." Neville said. "Harry and Ron are here."

Harry and Ron continued to stare in mute disbelief as Gilderoy Lockhart drew himself up to full height. He had been their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in their second year at Hogwarts, not that he'd actually taught them much. The year had culminated when he'd attempted to erase Harry and Ron's memories flee from the Chamber of Secrets, leaving Ginny to die. Fortunately, his memory charm had backfired, leaving Harry and Ron safe, but completely obliterating Lockhart's own memory. Last they seen him, he'd been under twenty-four seven care in a ward for people with magically induced brain damage at Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and injuries.

"Ah, Harry, my old friend!" Lockhart drew Harry into an uncomfortable embrace. Ron looked on, for once looking very grateful to be forgotten in Harry's shadow. "I've read all about what you've been up to these last years, so glad that my teachings have served you so well." He beamed at them warmly. "Of course, you'll have to forgive me, I don't exactly recall the details… But I've been told that you were there, you understand."

Harry certainly did not understand. Not wanting to offend anybody on his first day, he chose his line of questioning carefully. "Er, Prof- Gilderoy… How did you end up here?" He asked as tactfully as he could manage.

"Ah, it's an excellent story!" Lockhart's eyes gleamed, clearly relishing the fact that he'd be able to hold on to the limelight for another moment. "You see, after the accident in the Chamber of Secrets, I was at my lowest moment. Unable to even remember my own name, you see. I spent years trying to get it all back; I could sense that I had greatness in me, I just had to reach it. And then, it hit me. I had everything that I needed, cleverly hidden right in front of my face."

He looked expectantly at Harry and Ron, waiting for a sudden glimmer of realization to materialize on their faces. Harry couldn't help but suspect that Neville had heard this story before and was enjoying their bewilderment. When nobody spoke up, Lockhart continued on his own.

"My books, boys, my books. Everything that I'd done was in those books. I didn't need to actually remember doing things, as long as I knew what I'd done." He nodded to himself as if this made perfect sense. "I have to assume that I was preparing for this very sort of situation, leaving clues ahead for myself. I've always been clever like that, you know. So you see, I studied my books. Once I was allowed to practice with a wand, I recreated everything I'd done from scratch. It took a lot of sleepless nights over the better part of a year, but eventually I'd scrapped back up to where I was before. You see, I knew I had it in me because I'd already done it, so there was no excuse. And then the war broke out. I knew what I'd had to do- I finally resumed my mantle as defender of the innocent. I went underground, and formed a group of Wizards shepherding muggle-borns out of the country to safety. After the end of the war, I was asked to come on here, and I could think of no better use of my talents."

This was quite a lot for Harry and Ron to take in. Of course he wouldn't remember, but Lockhart's numerous biographies had essentially been fiction; moments before he'd erased his own memory, he confessed to them that he'd merely been taking credit for the work of other more talented witches and wizards.

"Thanks for your time, Gilderoy, but I'd better get these two to Rowedder's office, he'll be wanting a word."

"Of course, stop by any time, boys. I'm very busy these days, but I've always got a moment for my old students." He gave another wink and turned back to his work. Ron rather looked as though he'd been hit over the back of the head with a crowbar.

"I don't believe it." Ron said faintly to Harry as they turned away. "He's swallowed his own nonsense."

"I had my doubts when he first signed on too…" Neville said thoughtfully. "He wasn't all that impressive when he was teaching, you know? And when he was in the hospital with… Well, you know. But I've seen action with him over the last year, and I've got to say that he's pretty impressive. Just really stellar under pressure. Still vain as ever, though."

He stopped them in front of the door at the very end of the room. On it was a gold plaque that read _Edgar Rowedder; Head Auror, and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement._ Harry supposed that this must be his new boss' office.

"Don't worry, he's pretty relaxed." Neville said, apparently sensing their worry. "He's actually pretty cool. You go first, Harry."

Harry knocked on the door. A moment later, a rather raspy voice grunted from the other side. "Enter."

Harry complied, slowly turning the knob and stepping into the large office. The man who sat on the other side of the desk was not at all what Harry pictured when he thought of an auror. His mind's eye usually conjured images in the vein of the grizzled visage of Mad Eye Moody, or the commanding calmness of Kingsley Shacklebolt. On the contrary, the Head Office's occupant was rather short and slightly overweight, with a babyish face and watery eyes. Had his beard been grown out a bit from its' neat trim, Harry thought he would have borne a great resemblance to Father Christmas.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Good to finally meet you. As you've probably pieced together, I'm Edgar Rowedder." As he stood to shake hands, Harry noticed that the left arm of his robes hung limply at his side, apparently empty.

"Good to meet you, sir." Harry said, taking the man's hand and giving his best attempt at a firm shake.

"No need for formalities, my boy. Go ahead and call me Edgar." Rowedder chuckled. "But, as I was saying, it's excellent to finally have you on board. It seems that we're finally finding our feet again after these long two years. So, Longbottom's told me quite a bit about you. I take it he's given you the tour?"

"Yes, sir." Harry responded, forgetting Rowedder's request to drop formalities.

"Good, good." There was a very familiar twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. Harry was suddenly very intensely reminded of Professor Dumbledore. "I daresay he's one of the most reliable men we've got at the moment. You should know that he gives you the lion's share of credit for how he's turned out."

"Not at all, sir." Harry said hastily. "I taught him some spells in our fifth year, but he really came into his own the year before last."

"I figured you'd say as much." Rowedder said. "Funny how war does that for some of us, isn't it? How in the face of such incredible destruction, the least expected among us simply stand taller and stronger? But you'll forgive an old man his musings. I'm not as focused as I was in my younger days… Now I assume that you'll have questions about your new working conditions?"

"Er, yes, sir." Harry scarcely knew where to begin. "To be honest, I'm not really sure how any of this works at all."

Rowedder chuckled again. "I suppose that's natural. You're in good company, though. Minister Shacklebolt requested a thorough restructuring of the Department upon his appointment, and as he's appointed me both Head Auror, and Head of Magical Law Enforcement in general, that's exactly what I've done. A good deal of the past year has been dedicated to eradicating the deepest bits of Voldemort's roots left in the Ministry. Figuring out who we can trust and all that.

"Is it not normal for one person to be Head Auror and Department Head at the same time?" Harry asked.

"Not unprecedented, but it's certainly not ideal." Rowedder said. "But as I'm sure you saw, our numbers were greatly depleted. To put it simply, it was just myself, Kingsley, and Tonks that got out of this office the night Voldemort took over. Everybody here was put under arrest; those who couldn't be controlled were tortured for information and disposed of. Those who were controlled were in no state to return to duty afterward. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was hit just as hard. Voldemort had anybody with any loyalty to the old Ministry eliminated, and replaced them with his pawns. So you see, there weren't many people left that we could trust. Once Kingsley got the Minister Job, I was the only auror left from the old days to head up the office. He decided that it'd be best if I took up both jobs, although I daresay that he'd failed to consider my retirement plans."

He gave Harry a friendly wink. Harry had never known his grandfathers, but he imagined this was something like what a conversation with a grandparent would be like- minus all the talk of murder, of course. "But, as I was saying, we've been working hard to get back to where we need to be. It hasn't been easy, but we're finally getting to the low priority trials that've been backing up for years." Rowedder continued. "The Battle of Hogwarts was a good starting point; the Minister and I agreed that anybody who participated in the battle on our side was trustworthy enough to at least get an interview. So we've got a trustworthy young core. The downside with recruiting this way is that it looks like it'll be a while before anybody's ready to take over the job. Like I'd said, I don't get around as I used to. And this doesn't help either."

He shook his left side; the sleeve of his robes flopped listlessly, confirming Harry's suspicion about his missing arm. "I assume you remember Rabastan Lestrange?" Rowedder said. "I cornered him trying to flee from Hogwarts immediately after Voldemort was killed. I suppose I underestimated the desperation of a trapped rat; he'd never shown as much skill otherwise. But well worth it to put him in the ground."

The room was quiet for a moment. Harry felt a momentary guilt for the year that he'd spent exploring and enjoying himself while Neville and Rowedder worked tirelessly, but the guilt was quickly extinguished and replaced by fierce determination.

"Where should I start, sir?" Rowedder's wizened face split into a smile.

"That's the spirit." He said. "I've spoken with the Minister, and he says that you've already got quite the excellent track record with conducting investigations. Given that record, I'm not particularly inclined to interfere. You and Mr. Weasley will largely be given free reign to pursue investigations at your own free will, unless of course there's something I feel is suited to your talents. I think that the two of you have shown sufficient trust worthiness to earn this independence. Simply report in periodically with progress, and I don't foresee any problems. I'll have the list of Undesirables sent to your desk, I daresay that that'll be a good starting point."

"Thank you, sir." Harry said.

"Not at all, Potter." Rowedder said warmly. "Now, if there's nothing else you'll be needing, send Mr. Weasley in. Longbottom'll show you to your workspace.

Harry nodded and stepped outside where Ron and Neville were waiting for him. He gestured for Ron to go in next. Ron turned a somewhat sickly shade of green, but otherwise did an admirable job of maintaining his composure as he entered and closed the door.

"So, what'd you think?" Neville asked. "Pretty cool, right?"

Harry had to agree. All of the previous department heads that he'd met had been varying degrees of stern, so Rowedder's warm, grandfatherly demeanor had caught him off guard. On the other hand, he did have to wonder how this temperament lent itself to such a harsh and demanding job.

"Here we are." Neville gestured toward an empty cubicle in the corner of the room opposite Lockhart. "This'll be your workspace. I'm just over there if you need anything." Neville pointed to a desk opposite Harry's. "And before I forget, the Ministry puts on some training seminars every Thursday. You might think about checking them out, they talk about some pretty handy stuff. And the guest speakers are great."

"Thanks, Neville." Said Harry. "I just might do that, thanks." As Neville walked back to Rowedder's office to wait for Ron, Harry turned to inspect his cubicle. It was quite spacious, with a roomy desk and cork board walls. It came equipped with a thick black curtain that could be drawn for privacy. Already on the desk was the list of wanted Dark Wizards that Rowedder had promised. A large chunk of the list was comprised of former Death Eaters; Harry was surprised that so many had escaped capture after the final battle with Voldemort. His eyes flicked over the list, remembering the crimes associated with each name. There was Dolohov, responsible for killing Teddy Lupin's father, and Fenrir Greyback, who'd attacked countless innocents, maiming Ron's older brother Bill, and killing their fellow Gryffindor classmate Lavender Brown. These memories only motivated him further. While he enjoyed the freedom to travel as he pleased, he'd missed this sense of purpose over the last year. He now knew without a doubt that this where he was meant to be. With an odd sense of satisfaction, he sat down and began to set about his research.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry and Ron spent the next few days acclimating themselves to their new surroundings. Harry was quite pleased that his school career had prepared him for work in more ways than his teachers had intended. The countless hours that they'd spent researching various mysteries and schemes at Hogwarts had given them both an acute understanding of how to find and compile information. They were also both delighted to find that the Ministry had no shortage of leads for them to investigate; the countless venues of information felt positively liberating after the year that they'd spent scrounging dead ends for information on Voldemort's Horcruxes. All that they were really missing was Hermione. While she'd been cleared to participate in their investigations, she was much too busy with her own work to help them very much. While they felt like they'd made acceptable progress over the past several days, things weren't quite the same without her.

As Ginny would be meeting with Quidditch recruiters and Hermione had insisted that she'd be needing to stay late at the office on Thursday, Harry and Ron had taken Neville's advice about attending the Ministry sponsored seminars. Harry and Neville sat on either side of Ron in a large Ministry office that had been arranged to look rather like a classroom. Also in attendance were some of the younger aurors (including Michael Corner and Terry Boot), a group of witches from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, and two wizards that Harry thought he recognized as Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries.

Neville had so far been somewhat quiet about what to expect, simply insisting that they wait and see for themselves. Having given up on pestering him any further, they were now discussing Ginny's Quidditch prospects. True to her prediction, Ron had nearly fallen out of his chair when Harry mentioned the offer from Ron's favorite team, the Chudley Cannons.

"The Falcons wouldn't be a bad bet if she wants to go for an early title run." Neville said thoughtfully. "Can't say she'd be a good fit for what they're going for. Pretty sure they don't have anybody under fourteen stone on the roster. Any idea where she's leaning towards?"

"Not really." Harry said, watching interdepartmental messages folded into paper airplanes lazily floating overhead, seeking out their intended recipients. "I know she favors the Harpies, but she's keeping her cards on the table. She didn't seem to thrilled with how the meeting with Ballycastle went, though."

"But _the Cannons_ , though…" Ron said wistfully, his eyes taking on a similar glazed quality to Hagrid's when he'd talked about the baby dragon he'd adopted during their first year.

"Ron, you know the Cannons have been dead last for a decade, right?" Neville said, sounding half amused and half sympathetic. "This is Ginny we're talking about. She's pretty competitive, I don't think she's going for a team that doesn't have a pygmy puff's chance in a room full of Blast-Ended Skrewts."

"Yeah, I guess so." Ron said, deflating slightly. "But still, can you imagine? I wonder if she'll let me keep the letter…"

Ron's musings were abruptly interrupted by the sudden appearance of a large mane of bushy brown hair next to Harry.

"Hermione?" Ron started. "What are you doing here? I thought you had to stay late at work!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well, I am at work, aren't I?"

"I mean, I guess…" Ron said, apparently unable to poke any holes in her logic. "But you could've asked if we wanted to come!"

Hermione's eyebrow raised a bit further and the corner of her lip twitched. "Oh, of course. And if I'd asked if you and Harry wanted to stay late at work for no extra pay to attend a lecture, you both would've jumped at the offer? I should be the one interrogating you two!"

"Well, Neville didn't make it sound so dull. 'Course, he didn't really say much at all…" "Ron said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What are these about, anyway?"

Neville shrugged. "Could be anything, really. A bit like walking into a random classroom at Hogwarts, really. They even have teachers come in from time to time. I hear Dumbledore even used to give one from time to time when he was around. Of course, the last couple have just been some old blokes talking about medieval magic culture…"

Ron's face drew immediately. "Neville," He hissed, "I made a very solemn oath to myself last year that I would never sit through Binns' lectures about the history of goblin baking again, and if you ruin that for me, I swear that I won't rest until I've-"

Fortunately, his threats were cut off by the arrival of a new presence at the front of the hall. It wasn't their old History of Magic teacher, but rather their former Transfiguration teacher and current Headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall. Hermione habitually snapped to attention and opened her notebook, quill at the ready to catch every word.

"Good evening." Professor McGonagall said crisply, surveying the room. Harry could have sworn that he saw a flicker of a smile cross her tightly drawn lips as her eyes passed them over, but it was gone a split instant later. "Tonight, we will be discussing wandless magic. Now, I'll begin by saying that it is unwise to set expectations for yourselves too high. It goes without saying that you will universally receive better results with a wand, however it is best to at least know the theory should you find yourself wandless in an emergency situation."

Harry had forgotten how difficult it was to concentrate with Hermione scribbling notes beside him; the furious scratching of her quill made it somewhat difficult to focus on Professor McGonagall's voice as she continued.

"I am certain that all of you have performed magic before receiving your wands." She said. "It is typical for young witches and wizards to unintentionally unleash spells before they've been trained to control themselves, usually in times of stress or desperation. At the age of eleven, when the wand is obtained and education begins, it is expected that these outbursts will end. Tonight, however, we will be attempting to, temporarily of course, put a stopper on that training. I suggest revisiting a younger, less restricted state of mind. As desperation is the most common trigger for this brand of magic, I doubt that we will see pronounced results in this controlled environment. We will be attempting a simple bit of Transfiguration. I will distribute a button to each of you- you are to attempt to change its color."

As the box of small metal coat buttons made its way around the hall, Harry mused that this was a surprisingly simple objective from Professor McGonagall. He'd been expecting something significantly more complicated when she walked into the room. For her to not even have designated a color for them was rather odd. He'd already turned his elementary school teacher's wig blue as a child. How could this possibly be any harder?

Harry changed his mind very quickly. No matter how hard he stared at his button, no matter what incantation or hand movement he tried, it simply refused to change. Hermione was faring no better; she was making unbreaking eye contact with her button, emitting a faint hum that reminded Harry of the numerous computers that Dudley had broken as a child. On his other side, Ron was also staring intently, wordlessly mouthing what Harry had to assume were either incantations or curse words.

After about forty-five minutes of this, Professor McGonagall stopped by to check on their progress. Harry's button was now slightly lighter than Ron's formerly identical one, so he supposed that at least one of them must have made some sort of progress. Hermione's seemed to have melted slightly, and Neville's had sprouted a rather disgusting coat of fine, curly hair.

"Not bad at all." She said surveying their results. "Not what I asked for, but not bad all the same." Harry was rather pleased; this was highest praise coming from her.

"How have you been?" She asked, catching Harry somewhat off-guard with her relatively casual tone. "I must say that Hogwarts isn't the same without you lot. I suppose that a return to normalcy is long overdue, but it is a tad bittersweet. And I don't know what the Gryffindor Quidditch team will do for the next few years without any Weasley or Potters. Not that I'm taking sides as Headmistress, of course." She added quickly.

Harry had scarcely heard Professor McGonagall speak so frankly; it was only now that he made the realization that they were no longer students and teacher, but peers. It was, as she'd said, a bittersweet feeling.

"I am glad to see you settling in so well. I must say that I'm quite proud of all of you. The path of an auror is not an easy one, and to undertake it at your age…" Harry was sure he was imagining it, but he thought she looked ever so slightly misty eyed. "And while I wish you the best at the Ministry, I would like the four of you to remember that Hogwarts will always have a place for you." Much to Harry's surprise, she turned to face him. "Especially you, Potter. I'm finding that the Defense Against the Dark Arts Post is as difficult to fill as ever. Now, I know better than to try to change your mind once you've made a decision, but it still would have been nice to have you on staff. Just know that I haven't given up."

"What, me?" Harry said. "Aren't I a bit young to teach?"

Professor McGonagall chortled slightly. "Potter, how could you possibly look back on the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers that we've hired recently and think that _age_ of all things would be a disqualifying feature? No, of course not. And what with your little stint in your fifth year, you come with more teaching experience than most of our applicants."

Harry was completely unsure of what to say. He'd never even considered teaching as a potential career. He'd been set on becoming an auror ever since his fourth year, the only option that he'd even briefly considered aside from that was Quidditch. He was rather glad that Professor McGonagall had shown the consideration not to complicate his decision.

"Thanks, Professor. I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Harry still wasn't sure that he was cut out for teaching, but he felt that he owed it to the school and Professor Mcgonagall to at least consider it if they needed him.

"And Longbottom, you should be expecting an owl should Professor Sprout consider retiring. Your Herbology O.W.L. was incredible. Full marks with extra credit, I recall."

Harry suddenly saw a flash of white, and felt a sharp sting in his forehead. On the desk before him lay a paper airplane, slightly crumpled at the nose where it had bumped into him. He whipped around trying to see who'd thrown it at him, before remembering that the Ministry sent these airplanes out to carry messages within the building in place of owls. Feeling foolish and ignoring Ron sniggering at him, Harry unfolded the letter and began to read.

 _Dear Mr. H. Potter_

 _Your presence has been requested as a character witness during the trial of Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy which will begin at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Please prepare your case and report to courtroom ten on Level Ten of the Ministry of Magic Headquarters at the aforementioned time._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Erin Roswell, Chief Witch of Wizengamot Administration Services_

"No way." Professor Mcgonagall had moved onto the next group. Ron had been reading over Harry's shoulder, and was now wearing an expression akin a child who'd been told that he would be allowed chocolate cake at every meal. "Lucky… What I wouldn't give to be in the room, let alone testify… What're you going to say anyway?"

"I dunno." Harry said. He'd known this was coming for a while. The Malfoys' cooperation after the war and their willingness to undergo one trial as a family had granted them the privilege of living in relative freedom for the past year, but it seemed the time had finally come for their final judgement. As Harry had had numerous encounters with both Draco and Lucius, and one very noteworthy experience where Narcissa had betrayed Voldemort to allow Harry's survival, Kingsley had asked him to testify. Months later, Harry still wasn't sure how to approach the trial.

"I mean, Malfoy's an evil git, there's no argument there." Harry said. "But if his mum hadn't lied about me being dead in the Forbidden Forest last year, he would've killed me for real. And her too."

"Yeah, she saved your life. About twenty minutes after Malfoy nearly tried to kill you for the umpteenth time. Kind of a wash, don't you think? She practically owed you that much. And she only did it to save their skin. You-Know-Who had it in for them anyway. Besides, we've been talking about how to get Malfoy chucked in prison for _years_ , Harry!" Ron moaned. "And you're just going to squander that opportunity? This is once in a lifetime, Harry!"

"And you wonder why you weren't asked to testify?" Hermione interjected, scoffing. "This is about justice, not revenge. Harry is right to take this seriously. Malfoy did some bad things- alright, a lot of _really_ bad things- but he didn't have very much say in the matter, did he? Voldemort was living in his house, with his family…" She shuddered at the thought. "Can you even imagine? I have no idea what I'd do if it was my family. Don't look at me like that." She snapped at Ron. "It's just complicated."

This new insight didn't really make Harry feel any better. A similar thought had been chasing itself in circles around Harry's mind for the past year. He wasn't even sure what he'd do if Voldemort had been holding the Dursley's hostage, and he hadn't even particularly liked them. Then he'd imagine Voldemort having Hermione, Ron, and Ginny as hostages, and he'd have to forcibly shut down the train of thought. He'd made precious little progress in how he'd approach his testimony, and Ron and Hermione's bickering on either side of him perfectly embodied why.

"I think I'm heading out." Harry said abruptly, standing up. "I've got to work on this, and Ginny should be finishing up with her last interview. I'll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?"

He bade them a hasty goodnight and rushed to the atrium to disapparate home, his head now buzzing. He was kicking himself for not having prepared properly; his testimony could impact lives, and he hadn't even taken the time to decide what he'd say.

He apparated near the Three Broomsticks tavern, giving himself a bit of a walk home. He wasn't sure that Ginny would be finished meeting with the last recruiter, and he felt that he could use a solitary walk anyway. He didn't make much headway in his testimony, but he did appreciate the warm July air anyway.

Harry stopped outside the door to listen for a moment before entering. Hearing nothing but Archibald's faint hooting, he opened the door to let himself in. Immediately, he saw Ginny at the table. Her elbows were on the table, and her head was clutched tightly in her hands. Her hair was draped over her face, obscuring her expression. She didn't seem to have heard the door open.

"Gin, are you alright?" He rushed over to shake her shoulder.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, fine." She said rather faintly. Harry wasn't entirely convinced. "No, really, I'm good. Really great." She seemed to sense the mounting concern in his voice and steadied herself. "I'm just looking over all of this." She raised a hand to gesture at the offer sheets scribbled up over numerous roles of parchment covering the table.

"Yeah?" Harry glanced at one of the sheets. It was covered in numbers and names, none of which made the smallest bit of sense to Harry. "Made any decisions yet?"

Ginny to a deep breath to steady herself. "Harry, I think I'm going to sign with the Cannons."

Harry nearly choked on his own breath. "Pardon? The Cannons who haven't left the last place slot in a decade? The Cannons who have to print disclaimers on their tickets because their Beaters are more dangerous to the crowd than the other team?" He placed a hand on her forehead as though feeling for a fever.

"Yeah. Well, no… I mean, sort of." She seemed more flustered than he'd seen her in years. "I really just took the meeting to brag to Ron that I'd met the team owner and make him jealous. I was sure I was going to go with the Harpies because I've supported them forever. But I met with them, and they really didn't have all that much to offer. And then the Cannons people just said all the right stuff, you know? They're starting from scratch, from the top down. New management, new team, everything. They've got loads of resources from all the cheap players they've been hiring, and they're seriously gunning for young talent. They offered ten thousand galleons over two years, but I can opt out next year if it's not working out. And they'll give me a starting spot. It's a really solid contract." She refocused on Harry. "So… what do you think?"

"Well," Harry said slowly, "It's your choice, isn't it?"

Ginny was giving him that curious look again. "Yes, I suppose, but…" She began thoughtfully. "I want it to be our decision, you know? I just want to set a precedent. This affects both of us, so it should be a family decision."

Harry again felt the sudden thrill that came with the realization that he was on his way to having a proper family again after so long. "Well, I think it's a brilliant choice." He said, grinning ear to ear. "And if the team is still terrible, that just means you get to be the star player, right?"

Before he knew it, she was in his arms, kissing him passionately. His mind started to go blank as he leaned in, but her talk of decision making processes had reminded him of his troubles from earlier.

"Say, Ginny." He said, regretfully pulling back from her kiss. "What do you think should happen to the Malfoy's?"

Her eyes snapped into sharp focus. "Merlin's moldiest BDSM corset, Harry. You really know how to kill a moment, Harry." She sighed.

"I know, sorry." Harry said. "But they're going in front of the Wizengamot tomorrow, and I'm supposed to testify for them. I don't really know what to say."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, alright." She furrowed her brow in concentration. "I really don't know, Harry. I know that Narcissa Malfoy saved you from You-Know-Who, and I'll always be grateful for that. But Lucius Malfoy is the worst kind of scum. He tried to use me to kill my friends to discredit my father. I'll never be able to forgive him for that. But I suppose that's why they don't give the victim a vote in the sentencing. But that's just it. This isn't all on you. You put the weight of the world on your shoulders. That's not a criticism, Harry. It's probably my favorite thing about you. But all that you have to do right now is go up and tell the truth. I think it's actually good that you're conflicted about this. You don't have an agenda, and you shouldn't try to develop one; it's not your job right now."

"Thanks, Ginny." Harry instantly felt the concern melting away from him. He wished that they could go back to before he'd asked for advice about the Malfoy trial, but the moment had passed and he wasn't sure how to get back there. Still, he was significantly relieved as he changed into his pajamas while Ginny fetched Archibald to send out her freshly signed contract. He knew that there would be plenty of other moments, and hopefully he'd be able to keep his mouth shut long enough to make the most of a few of them.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry was awoken the next morning by the sound of birds chirping in the distance. As he'd recently taken to doing, he took a moment to appreciate the smell of the grass outside mingling with the scent of Kreacher making breakfast wafting up from downstairs. However, his peaceful introspection was interrupted by a sudden nagging sensation that something wasn't quite right.

Ginny was still in bed next to him. This wasn't entirely unusual as she had a bit of a penchant for sleeping in, but she wasn't sleeping today. Instead, she was sitting at an incline, leaning against her pillows. Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide open and staring at Kreacher's painting, but appeared dull and unseeing. Harry had a brief moment of panic before he noticed her chest gently rising.

"Er… Ginny." He said cautiously. "Everything okay?"

"I'm finished, Harry." She moaned. "Finished." She closed her eyes and took a dramatic breath. "I'm going to be a laughingstock once people find out that I joined the Chudley Cannons. Just wait until George finds out… Have you ever just taken a look at your life and wondered how things could go so crazy?"

"To be honest, that was pretty much my life from ages thirteen to seventeen." Harry said, relief setting in as he began to dress himself. "I thought you were happy with the Cannons? What with the rebuild and the pay and everything?"

"How could you let me do this?" She continued, still staring at the bizarre portrait. "What was I thinking? Cannons fans are all nutters like Ron… I had an offer from the Harpies, even as a reserve…"

"Whoa, hold on there." Harry said, taken off his guard by this rather unfair tactic. "It's not like you to be so dramatic… Besides, this was your idea, remember? And then I said the thing about you being a star and you were really happy?" He gave a weak smile, hoping to cash in on his smooth comment from the night before. She gave her best attempt at a withering look, but Harry could still see the outline of the smile she was fighting back at the memory.

"I know, I know… I just decided so quickly and then I stayed up all night thinking about it." She seemed to be shaking herself out of her funk. "I guess I just got myself worked up. Sorry about that."

"It's fine, just try not to look like you've died in your sleep next time." Harry finished pulling on his robes.

Kreacher had already collected the morning post and set breakfast on the table by the time that they arrived downstairs. Harry had received another letter from the Ministry about the Malfoy trial he'd been requested to attend, and Ginny had one bearing the seal of the Chudley Cannons. She opened it somewhat nervously as though half expecting it to explode.

"Blimey." She said, her eyes scanning over the letter contained within. "It's a practice schedule… The playoffs just ended a couple weeks ago, and they're already starting?"

"Makes sense." Harry said, helping himself to an egg and some bacon. "If they're starting with a whole new team, I'd expect that they'd want to get to practicing as soon as possible right?"

"I guess so." Ginny said. "I suppose it's a good sign that they're serious, at least. And I have been looking forward to getting back on the pitch again. But look at this thing…" She waved it over to him. Harry had to agree that it was an ambitious schedule to say the least. It looked like they had practices nearly every day, ranging from four to eight hours in length. Harry was surprised to see that the first one was scheduled for only two days later.

"Right, so they're _really_ serious about this." He said in amazement. "If this is the offseason, I don't even want to see what the regular season looks like."

"Don't remind me." Ginny said crossly. "At least we won't have any excuses for losing, assuming we can survive for that long…"

"Eh, I wouldn't worry about it too much."Harry responded. "Angelina worked us pretty hard, and even that was nothing compared to what Oliver Wood used to do. And that was on top of schoolwork and everything else. But we always got by okay." He scarfed down the rest of his breakfast. "I'd better get going, I want to finish drafting my statement before I get there."

"Alright," Ginny said, "but before you go, where did you want to go for dinner tonight?"

"I dunno." Harry said. "I figured Kreacher would whip something up, did you want to go out?"

She shot him a questioning look. "I mean, I guess it's your call, but I figured that you'd probably want to do something with Hermione and Ron." Harry's brain finally clicked into place. He hadn't even realized that it was his birthday. The revelation must have shown on his face, because Ginny grinned at him teasingly. "Don't tell me you forgot your own Birthday, Harry? Because that doesn't exactly set my hopes high for mine." She joked.

"Yeah, I guess so." Over the years with the Dursleys, they'd made it perfectly clear that Harry's birth was nothing to be celebrated. The only reason that he'd really looked forward to it was that it was a reliable bet that he'd be getting letters from his friends. Now that he was free from the Dursleys and saw his friends nearly every day, he really didn't have any particular reason to look forward to it.

"Well, I'm sure that I could get us a reservation at Madam Puddifoot's- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it was only a joke!" Ginny said hastily, seeing the look of utter horror the instantly crossed Harry's face. "But seriously, how about a private room at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Much better." Harry said.

"Excellent." Ginny drew closer to give him a kiss goodbye. "And Harry…" She whispered in his ear before she pulled back. "Make sure you get home on time tonight, yeah? So we can celebrate?"

"Erm… Yeah, okay." Harry internally cursed himself for not being able to come up with anything wittier, but his dumbstruck face seemed to be exactly what she'd been looking for. He could've sworn that he saw the flash of a satisfied smile playing across her lips before she briefly kissed him again and went back to eating. Feeling slightly dazed and unable to stop himself smiling, he set off for the Ministry.

It would turn out that he'd need every bit of cheer that she'd left him with that day. As he once again sat on the uncomfortable stone benches of the Ministry courtroom, he noticed some new faces among the Wizengamot crowd. Edgar Rowedder was to be presiding over the trial; Harry supposed that this must be the norm, as he was the proper Head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Also present, much to Harry's disgust, was Rita Skeeter. "What's she doing here?" Harry muttered to Rowedder, unable to keep the displeasure out of his voice. Rowedder seemed to share his distaste.

"She's here for the Daily Prophet." Rowedder said. "The Minister's decided that in order to maintain confidence and transparency with the public, it's best that they be kept in the loop with Death Eater trials." He sighed wearily. "It's a solid idea, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't really work if the stupid sons of bitches send out a gossipmonger like her. Still, it's too late to back out now, unfortunately. Best to let her say what she will, but not give her any more openings than we absolutely have to."

Harry nodded, but wasn't entirely satisfied. He wasn't sure what Rita Skeeter could possibly want. Could she simply be going after the Malfoy reputation? Harry figured that it was possible, but Lucius Malfoy had already been disgraced by his connection to the Death Eaters even before the fall of Lord Voldemort. It was hard to imagine there being a lot of meat left on that story after all this time. Harry made a mental note to be extra careful with what he planned to say.

At exactly ten o'clock, the door in the corner of the courtroom swung open. The Malfoy's looked as smart as ever; Harry noticed that their fall from grace hadn't been reflected in their appearance. On the contrary, their robes were as expensive as ever, and they looked much healthier than when Harry had last seen them. He chalked this up to the stress of having Lord Voldemort occupying their manor being lifted. He couldn't help but feel slighted; did they not deserve some suffering after all that they'd been responsible for? Harry shook his head lightly and admonished himself as the Malfoy Family sat down on the three chairs that had been placed for them at the center of the courtroom and Rowedder began to read charges. He knew that he had to remain impartial or he'd regret it later.

As Rowedder wrapped up his opening notes, Lucius Malfoy began to speak. Despite his determination to stay on neutral ground, Harry couldn't help a disgusted shiver. "It is with great shame that we appear before the Wizengamot today." Lucius said. His wife Narcissa maintained her usually haughty expression, while their son Draco, who'd been Harry's old school rival sulked between his parents. At one point he caught Harry's eye, but quickly looked away pointedly.

"We have allowed the Malfoy name to be sullied." Lucius continued. "Any who know me personally know that there could be no greater disappointment." His face remained stoney as he spoke. "The last few years have been as hard for my family as anybody. Not that I can hope to excuse my actions, but I must speak to the defense of my wife and son. We had as much reason to fear the Dark Lord as anybody else, if not more. However, we accept the judgment of the jury and hope they will be merciful in their judgement."

He leaned back in his chair. Harry had to hand it to him; his years of practicing kissing up to anybody in a position of power appeared to be paying off. If Harry hadn't known him personally, he might have been fooled by this display of humility. However, Harry knew better. He had often seen Lucius and Draco don this flattering personality whenever they sought to leave a favorable impression.

"Lucius Malfoy," Rowedder said, "would you please lift your left sleeve and present your forearm to the jury?" Lucius' face remained impassive as he complied, pulling up his sleeve. There was an interested murmur among the witches and wizards at the sight. Emblazoned on his flesh was a skull with a winding snake emerging from its mouth like a tongue. The Dark Mark was no longer the solid jet black a year ago, but had faded to resemble a typical patch of scar tissue. Still, there was no mistaking it as the seal of Lord Voldemort's followers.

"And Draco, I am told that you bear the Mark as well?" Draco nodded, pulling up his sleeve as well. Harry noted that at a second glance, he didn't look quite so healthy; he now appeared that he would vomit if he attempted to open his mouth to speak. "You realize, I'm sure that the Dark Mark is damning evidence?" Rowedder continued. "As it was placed only on his most loyal followers, those who were simply manipulated never bore the mark."

Lucius' slick expression slipped for just a moment. "This is true. At one point, I counted myself among his inner circle- long before he became what I now know him to be. I was a fool, and allowed myself to be caught in his promises of glory. But I was glad as anybody to hear of his first downfall eighteen years ago; I was freed from my contract, thanks to the great Harry Potter." He gave Harry a nod as he said this. Harry didn't respond to this bold lie. His first meeting with Lucius Malfoy (and every one after that, for that matter) had been marked by immediate and mutual contempt.

"However, at the time of the Dark Lord's return, I was more vulnerable then ever. I felt his summon with the others immediately up on his revival, and was disturbed to find that he had intimate knowledge of my family. It wasn't long before he took up residence at our home. I had no means to oppose him- he was too close to either Narcissa or Draco at any time. The Dark Lord was cautious; I think that he sensed my desire to defect. But his influence was far too great. We were forced to maintain our favor in order to ingratiate ourselves to him."

Lucius finished, but did not relax this time. Harry could see that he was doing his best to maintain his calm visage, but the corners of his mouth were beginning to draw.

"I see." Rowedder's face was unreadable. Harry found the sudden shift from his usual grandfatherly demeanor somewhat shocking, but he supposed that it was a necessary part of being an auror. "Draco." Rowedder continued coldly. "In your sixth and final year at Hogwarts, you were tasked by Lord Voldemort with the murder of Albus Dumbledore; a task that you carried out successfully. What do you have to say in your defense?"

For a moment, the room was completely silent except for the furious scratching of Rita Skeeter's quill. Harry savored the horrified look on Draco Malfoy's face before he did the absolute last thing he wanted to- he spoke in Malfoy's defense.

"Yeah, it's true that Voldemort told Malfoy to kill Professor Dumbledore." Harry said, standing up. "But the plan wasn't actually Voldemort's; it was Dumbledore's. Over that summer he'd been injured, and he knew that he wouldn't have survived much longer anyway. He knew that if Malfoy didn't kill him, Voldemort would kill Malfoy. And he knew that Malfoy wouldn't have the stomach to kill him. So he had Professor Snape do it instead. Everything that Malfoy did under pressure from Voldemort was planned by Professor Dumbledore." Harry took a breath. He figured he might as well get it out of the way all at once. "I need to say something else as well… When I went into the Forbidden Forest last time to face Voldemort, I was ready to die. Of course, it didn't work out that way. His killing curse failed again. But he thought I was dead. He sent Mrs. Malfoy to make sure. She lied to Voldemort and told him that I was dead. If she hadn't, I would've been exposed in front of him and a circle of Death Eaters- there would've been no way out."

Having said his piece, Harry sat down. Malfoy's eyes were bulging out of his head, disbelief written on every inch of his face. Rita Skeeter had abandoned her Quick-Quotes Quill, and was now scribbling away so furiously that the wizard beside her was being splashed in the face by stray ink droplets; he was watching so intently that he didn't seem to notice the spray.

"Hm…" Rowedder said, stroking his beard. "So, we have a guilty plea, but in light of the circumstances, I'd suggest that a fine will suffice. Those in favor?" He raised his own hand. Slowly, others followed suit. By the time votes were counted, there was a comfortable majority.

Harry supposed that Dumbledore would have been proud. He had always been a vocal supporter of second chances for those who attempted to correct their paths, but Harry still wasn't sure that the Malfoy's deserved forgiveness. As Rowedder tallied the votes and handed down the sentence, Harry had an oddly hollow feeling in his chest.

As soon as the court was adjourned, Rita Skeeter elbowed her way down to the floor where the Malfoy's were attempting to make their own hurried exit. She cornered Lucius before they could make it to the door. Harry was tempted to try to get close enough to overhear what they were saying, but he knew that their hushed tones and the chatter of the court staff would make it impossible. As he passed them by, he caught Draco's eye again. For a split second, Malfoy's mouth opened as if to say something, but he quickly closed it and replaced his sulky scowl. Rita also eyed Harry as he passed, but to his surprise she didn't approach. He definitely didn't like the predatory look that he thought he detected from her, but he didn't particularly care at the moment.

Harry brushed off Ron's questions as he returned to the office and set about his work. He knew that Ron would be disappointed with the Malfoy's getting off with anything less than a public flogging, and the idea of a modest fine to such a wealthy family was almost laughable. Fortunately, he was saved from further questioning from the arrival of a letter to Ron from Ginny announcing her signing with the Cannons. Upon reading it, Ron began whooping loud enough for the entire floor to hear. Harry suspected that she'd elected to inform him this way so that she wouldn't have to be in earshot.

"She'll be able to get tickets all the time, yeah?" Ron said eagerly. His joy proved rather infectious, and in the end it triumphed over the leftover sourness that the trial had left in Harry's mouth. By early afternoon, he'd almost completely forgotten about it and was simply looking forward to dinner. It wasn't their most productive day, but as it was Friday and there were no urgent cases, nobody seemed to be paying much attention.

"I don't believe it! First the Chocolate Frog Cards, now this! I think it's finally my year, mate." Ron said, his eyes glazing over a bit. "I'm serious, though. I feel like I've just taken Felix Felicis. I've got to take advantage of this, you know?" He suddenly seemed more thoughtful.

"Not really." Harry said. "Actually, I've no idea. What are you talking about?"

"Just luck, yeah?" Ron said slowly. "Felix Felicis proves that it's a real thing, right? Meaning you've got it or you don't. And when you do, you should make the most of it."

"I mean, I suppose." Harry said. His own brief encounter with Felix Felicis had led him to believe that luck was a bit more complicated than Ron was making it out to be, but Ron seemed to be in a rather strange mood. "But you haven't taken Felix, have you?"

"No." Ron said absently. "Listen, I've just remembered that I've got something to do. I'm heading out a bit early."

"Yeah, okay." Harry said. He'd been thinking about leaving early himself to surprise Ginny and was glad not to have to think of an excuse for Ron. "I'll see you later tonight."

"Yeah." Harry thought he heard an odd sort of determination in Ron's voice. "Happy Birthday, I'll catch you later."

Without another word, Ron had disappeared, leaving Harry to wonder what he could possibly have been thinking about as he gathered up his things for the day.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry and Ginny were both in quite good spirits as they strolled casually to the Three Broomsticks, making plans to gather a few friends for some casual Quidditch practice at the Weasley homestead over the weekend. With the two of them, Ron, George, and two of the elder Weasley brothers, Charlie (who was back in the country to visit his family and was quite a talented flyer) and Percy (who was far from outstanding, but was quite eager to spend time with his family these days), they figured they could have a decent scrimmage.

The Three Broomsticks was as welcoming as ever, with it's crowds of witches and wizards chatting away merrily. Being a Friday evening, every single table was filled, with several parties waiting at the bar for more to open up. Harry was relieved that Ginny had possessed the foresight to reserve a private room, as it was otherwise unlikely that they'd be seated at all. Ron and Hermione were waiting for them just inside. Ron seemed to be feeling more himself, although still slightly prone to distraction. As they were approached the bar, they were greeted warmly by the Landlady, Madam Rosmerta. Harry was glad to see her in good health; last they'd met, she'd been placed under the effects of the Imperius Curse by Draco Malfoy. She hugged them all in turn before leading them upstairs. Harry noticed Hermione carefully eyeing Ron (who'd always nursed a soft spot for Rosmerta) as he received his hug, but he remained impressively stoic throughout.

"Right through here, m'dears." She said as she pointed them towards a door at the end of the hallway upstairs. "The rest of your party's already inside." She departed downstairs to deal with her other patrons.

"What'd she mean by that?" Harry asked. "I thought it was just going to be the four of us?"

Ginny simply shrugged as she pushed the door open. No sooner had she done so, then a roar of noise erupted from within, nearly scaring Harry out of his skin. It appeared that Ginny had taken the liberty of inviting nearly the entirety of Dumbledore's Army, as well as a myriad of other friends from Hogwarts. Everyone from Neville to Lee Jordan was there; it seemed she'd even tracked down his old Quidditch Captain from his early Hogwarts years, Oliver Wood, and managed the diplomacy to invite his ex-girlfriend, Cho Chang. Harry realized with some amusement that she must have been counting on him losing track of the date, giving her free reign to plan all of this.

He was immediately swallowed up by the crowd, all of whom seemed eager to wring his hand and catch up with his adventures from the past year. He was rather reminded of the parties that had been held in Gryffindor tower to celebrate their Quidditch Cup victories. Fortunately, the room seemed to have been magically expanded to accommodate the crowd; it appeared larger than would have been possible seeing the building from the outside.

After about an hour, things had settled down somewhat. The party had fractured into smaller groups that scattered throughout the room. Harry sat at a table next to Ginny, lazily listening to Luna Lovegood attempting to convince them, Neville, and Hannah Abbot of the existence of colonies of Half-Dragon Centaurs that roamed the North American wilderness.

Suddenly, a heavy silence fell over the room, except for Luna who absently continued with her speech. Ginny slowly reached over and covered Luna's mouth, using her other hand to point a shaky finger at the far corner of the room. Luna seemed to used to this sort of treatment to be offended, and instead simply turned to see what everybody else was so interested in.

Harry could just barely see through the dense crowd, but he could make out Hermione standing in the center of a small clearing. Her usually bushy hair seemed even more frazzled than usual, and her hands were covering her face except for her bulging eyes. It wasn't until Harry caught sight of a flash of red hair near Hermione's waist-level that he was able to piece together what was going on; suddenly, Ron's odd behavior from earlier in the day made sense.

"Merlin's cutoff jorts…" Ginny murmured under her breath, seemingly unsure of her eyes. "I've seen everything now."

The silence seemed to hang in the air forever. Harry had to feel for Ron; however long it felt for him, he was sure that it was a thousand times worse for Ron. If he craned his head at just the right angle, he could see that Ron was wearing an expression nearly identical to the one he'd had when he'd unintentionally jinxed himself to vomit out slugs. Finally, after an indeterminate amount of seconds, hours, or minutes, Parvati Patil gently poked Hermione in the back, bringing her back to reality.

"I mean, yes, of course, I-" The rest of Hermione's sputtering was drowned out by a fresh explosion of shouting and cheering, prompting Madam Rosmerta to poke her head in to make sure that everyone was okay.

"Unbelievable," Ginny said, "I plan this for weeks, and that prat goes and usurps the whole thing by proposing." She seemed torn between her sisterly desire to be irritated with Ron and her genuine happiness at the idea of Hermione becoming her sister-in-law.

They began to cut through to congratulate Ron and Hermione with the rest, but didn't get far before they were cut off by Oliver Wood. "Evening, Harry." He said quickly. Much to Harry's surprise, he seemed much more interested in Ginny. "You must be Ginny Weasley, yeah?" He said, shaking her hand eagerly.

"Er, yeah, that's me." Ginny said cautiously. "I take it you're a friend of Harry's? My boyfriend? Who I live with?"

"Sorry, sorry." Wood seemed to realize that he'd been coming on a bit strong. "I'm Oliver Wood, Keeper and Captain of the Chudley Cannons." He whispered the last bit, as though there were likely spies among the crowd who desperately sought this information. "I wanted to make introductions sooner, but I needed a good distraction. We're trying to keep this under wraps, you see."

Ginny nodded, looking a bit bemused. "Well, it's a pleasure then. But why all the cloak and dagger stuff?"

"We're going for the element of surprise." Wood said. "I' took this plan to the Cannons brass as soon as the League reformed at the end of the war. We're going to storm the League; we've been keeping our signings quiet until the last moment. Right now it looks like the Cannons are just restructuring, but we've actually taken steps to make sure that we're farther along than we look." He looked incredibly proud of himself. "One of our other starting Chasers is Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell is going to be a reserve. Our seeker and third chaser are some fellows I played with at Puddlemere. So we've already got history playing with each other, and we've got a talented young team. Some of the hungriest competitors out there as well, especially if you're anything like Fred, George, or Charlie. So we're making a surprise title run this year. Of course, we could have had an even better seeker if Harry hadn't decided he had better things to do." He shot Harry a disapproving look as if it were downright irresponsible to run around catching dark wizards when there were Quidditch matches to play. "But if we put in the work, I reckon that we've got a fair shot."

Harry hadn't realized it, but he'd missed the manic glimmer in Woods' eye that came with his championship speeches. For a moment, he regretted his life decisions as he imagined himself flying over a packed stadium carrying the Quidditch Cup as Ginny and the rest of the team trailed on either side shouting victoriously. Then, he remembered Woods' practice schedules, and decided that, on second thought, he was fine as he was.

"Anyway, here's some play diagrams." Wood pulled a dense scroll out of his pocket. "Study them carefully, and then destroy them. Whatever you do, don't let them fall into enemy hands. Welcome to the team." Wood patted Ginny on the shoulder and faded back into the crowd.

"Is… Is he for real?" Ginny murmured, sounding just a bit dazed.

"Dunno." Harry said. "Bit hard to say with him. But he did just refer to your brother's proposal as a good diversion for discussing covert Quidditch plans, so take that as you will, I guess."

The party continued until after midnight, when Madam Rosmerta informed them that she had other guests who were actually trying to sleep, and that the Soundproofing Charms weren't strong enough to contain the noise. Soon after, people began to stream out, eventually leaving only Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Luna. Hermione was resting her head on Ron's shoulder, staring contentedly at the ring that Ron had presented. Ron couldn't seem to help but look incredibly pleased with himself.

"Alright, how about presents then?" Ginny said, abruptly standing up and clapping her hands together, causing Hermione to jump and bump her head into Ron's. It took Harry a moment to figure out what she meant; in all the excitement of the night, he'd almost forgotten that the party had been for him. Ginny pointed her wand at a pile of wrapped boxes on a table in the corner, gracefully summoning them over.

"Here start with this one." She handed over a long, thin package from Luna. Harry wasn't sure what to expect, but having known her for some time he supposed that he should be grateful that it was too small to contain any sort of clothing or decor.

Much to his surprise, the box contained a wand. "It's one of the first that I made all on my own." Luna said unnecessarily. The wand could hardly have been designed by anyone else; it was painted vibrantly in alternating red and gold which spiraled down it's length, and, carved into the handle, what initially appeared to be a grip pattern was actually the word 'friendship' carved repeatedly in minute handwriting. "Twelve and a half inches, made of maple, with a core of Golden Snidget feathers. It took forever to gather enough feathers from one bird. We had to keep waiting for her to keep regrowing her coat so we could pluck a bit at a time. And Mr. Ollivander said that there was no way that Snidget feathers would work in the first place, but it was all worth it. At least I think it was. It was made for you, so I haven't really been able to test it. But Snidges were the original inspiration for Quidditch Snitches, and you're a seeker, so I assume that it should be fine. Go on then, give it a try!"

Not entirely reassured by her logic but not wanting to offend her, he decided to try a simple levitation charm on an unoccupied chair. Surprisingly, the wand seemed to fit in his hand quite naturally, and the charm came quite easily. Despite this, he couldn't help but feel like he was being disloyal to his original Holly and Phoenix feather wand. He figured that he may not use this new wand much, but it was a nice token. And besides; hard experience had taught him that it was never a bad idea to keep a spare wand handy.

Neville had also brought a gift along. He'd gotten Harry a Dittany plant; a useful herb with healing properties. "Trust me," Neville said, "that'll come in handy once you've starting doing fieldwork." Reflecting on his own record with bodily harm, Harry didn't doubt this.

Hermione and Ron had pooled their efforts for another rather practical gift; Ron offered Harry an apologetic look as Harry unwrapped the large stack of heavy books detailing advanced defensive magic techniques. He needn't have, as Harry actually appreciated it quite a bit. He knew that as an auror, he'd need to make every effort to brush up his skills. And in any case, he had a bookshelf in the study of his new home that needed filling.

Ginny had gotten him a fine traveling cloak that had numerous hidden pockets lining the inside. He noted that it would be useful in equal parts for long travels for work, and maintaining his anonymity and sneaking snacks into Quidditch matches.

Rounding out the bunch was a large box from the collective remaining Weasley's. It contained innumerable baked sweets made by Mrs. Weasley, as well as a handy assortment of products from George's shop. Harry saw a large bag of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, several Decoy Detonators, and a several brightly colored candies that he was sure were Ton-Tongue-Toffees.

Harry offered a round of thanks, genuinely touched by his friends thoughtfulness. With the last of the birthday festivities properly taken care of, the conversation soon shifted to Ron and Hermione's plans.

"I've put in an application for a flat in London." Ron said, beaming proudly. "They haven't technically accepted yet, but they wouldn't, right? I mean, we're war heroes, yeah? I figure we'll rent for a bit until we've got a decent savings, then look for a place of our own."

"Now who's showing up who?" Harry joked. "Proposing and getting a place in one day… And you said that I'd set up a tough act to follow…" Picking up on a curious look from Ginny and realizing that he might have just gotten himself in more trouble, Harry hastily fished around for a change of subject. "Say, has anybody heard from Hagrid?"

"He's spending the Summer in France." Ginny answered. "I wrote to invite him tonight, but he said he's vacationing with Madame Maxime. I expect that they're trying to decide what they're going to do when the baby arrives."

"Oh yeah…" Harry said. In his happiness for Hagrid, he hadn't given the logistics of managing an international relationship while raising a baby. "Is Madame Maxime going to move over here then?"

"Well…" Hermione said slowly, as though speaking to a child. "I don't think so Harry. I mean, she's the Headmistress of a prestigious school. I can't see her giving that up so easily. She must've put in a lot of work to get to where she is., and she can hardly just up and resign."

"Right." Harry said, the inevitable truth that he seemed to have been blocking from his mind finally dawning on him. "So that means…"

"Hagrid'll probably have to leave Hogwarts." Hermione finished for him, a note of sadness in her voice. "I don't know if he's even thought that through, but I don't see how else it could work."

It was truly an unthinkable notion. Hagrid was practically synonymous with Hogwarts, but Harry had no doubt that he would make that sacrifice for his new family. Even with the comforting notion that Hagrid would probably be just as happy in his new home, the idea that a generation of Hogwarts students would be deprived of his company was a tough pill to swallow.

Unfortunately, the night had to end eventually. Harry knew that he'd probably have to pay for his glasses of firewhisky in the morning, but he didn't particularly care at the moment. Nobody had said much over the last quarter of an hour, but it didn't really seem necessary to any of them. They simply sat and stared lazily at the fire as it died down to cinders. They didn't leave until it had been completely extinguished, with the lot of them agreeing that they'd have to find the next possible excuse to reunite Dumbledore's Army.


	9. Chapter 9

Over the next few weeks, Harry came to the realization that his notoriety would not be anywhere near as much of a boon in his investigations as he'd hoped. He'd thought that maybe the trust that the public held in him after his defeat of Voldemort would encourage a bit of extra cooperation; instead, it was as much of a hindrance as it had been for the majority of his life.

He and Ron had chosen to home in on the case of Antonin Dolohov, a particularly violent Death Eater who'd managed to escape from the Hogwarts Grounds after the death of Lord Voldemort. To this end, they'd combed the Ministry's records of witches and wizards who'd contacted the Ministry with sightings or reports of any helpful information. Most of them had been deemed uncredible, but some of them had appeared to have some degree of legitimacy. However, as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's resources had been stretched so thin over the last year, there had been nobody available to follow up.

Unfortunately for Harry, most of these leads required in-person interviews. Harry quickly found that many of the people that they spoke to had difficulty speaking to him naturally; they tended to be nervous, tripping over their own words and losing their train of thought. To top this off, it was quite likely that they'd be tempted to tell their friends and neighbors about the interview. As they were trying to keep the fact that they were after Dolohov as quiet as possible in order to avoid driving him further underground, this was thoroughly counterproductive. So Harry was forced to wait outside, usually walking around the neighborhood, idly flipping his D.A. coin while Ron (who would be able to keep a relatively low profile) conducted the interview.

This arrangement was not particularly favorable for either of them. With Harry not being present, Ron was required to take extra-detailed notes to keep him in the loop. Meanwhile, Harry was left to wander around feeling useless until Ron finished up. The only reason that he tagged along in the first place was to review notes so that Ron could go right back to fill in any details or questions he may have missed. But even if Ron's notes were perfect (which they seldom were), Harry missed out on some details, leaving them both a bit frustrated. As they seemed to yield few significant results, Harry and Ron began to dread the days that they'd arranged to meet with informants.

It was on one such day in mid-August that found Harry strolling down the dirt road of a small wizard village, flipping his coin and kicking pebbles as he went. He'd been in something of a foul mood since he'd woken up. It was Ginny's birthday, and he'd hoped that he'd be able to surprise her with breakfast in bed. He'd even gotten up a full hour earlier than normal to prepare the meal with Kreacher. However, when he'd awoken, he'd found the spot on the bed next to him empty, aside from a note mentioning that Oliver Wood had called an early-morning practice that she'd forgotten to mention.

To make things worse, the present that he'd ordered for her still hadn't arrived with the morning post. He'd already been a bit annoyed that the catalog he'd ordered from hadn't made the requested date of two days beforehand despite him giving proper notice, but now he was thinking vaguely about taking a trip to their headquarters and waving his badge around until he got some answers.

What did come in with the morning post was the worst surprise of the day. As soon as he unrolled the day's _Daily Prophet,_ he was greeted with a most unwelcome sight. With a frown, he shook the creases out of the paper and began to read the headline.

 _Secrets of You-Know-Who's Immortality Revealed at Last- What the Ministry Doesn't Think You Should Know_

Harry had been expecting this for some time, and of course he wasn't surprised to see Rita Skeeter's name attached. What he had not been expecting was the accompanying photo of a ratty old book. Not just any old book, but a diary. Rita had somehow gotten her hands on what remained of Tom Riddle's Diary. His heart beginning to pound in his chest, Harry began to reluctantly read the article.

 _The mystery surrounding He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named's original attempt to murder Harry Potter has been speculated on for years. Some light was shed several years ago when new theories arose concerning the Dark Lord's motives in relation to an mysterious prophecy that he'd apparently been attempting to fulfill. However the true mystery has been how the most powerful dark wizard in modern times managed to avoid death when he was hit by his own rebounding curse. Scholars have theorized that the curse was somehow weakened when it was turned back on him, but this theory fails to explain his disappearance for nearly fourteen years. Well, as of today, readers of the Daily Prophet need wonder no more._

 _As it happens, the truth is much simpler and more disturbing than most of the explanations for the Dark Lord's fall and subsequent rise. It should come as a surprise to nobody that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named dabbled in the Darkest of Old Magics, unknown even to the most studied scholars of today. It was one such bit of Old Magic that allowed him to tether himself to life. Using a spell that will not be detailed in this article for obvious reasons, the Dark Lord was able to split his soul, hiding the leftover pieces in formerly inanimate objects, referred to as 'Horcruxes' which would hold the collective soul to life as long as any were intact._

 _Now, to those of you out there thinking that you've just found the solution to all of your problems, it should be noted that the creation of the Horcrux requires murder to split the soul, and should not be taken lightly. As my editor has been reminding me incessantly for several weeks, the Daily Prophet's stance is firmly anti-murder. Obviously, the Dark Lord felt very differently, as shown by the swathes of destruction that he twice carved through the wizarding world._

 _It is at present unknown how many Horcruxes the Dark Lord was able to create; no records can be found indicating more than one have been created by any other wizard in history. However, yours truly has reason to believe that he'd created no less than two, and likely even more._

 _The first Horcrux, which was provided to us by a very kind anonymous source takes the form of an apparently ordinary diary. However, both my anonymous source and dark magic scholars from the Durmstrang Institute have vouched for the fact a piece of He-Who-Not-Be-Named once stored a fragment of his soul within its pages. The Diary made it's appearance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seven years ago. Those who were students at the time will no doubt remember this year for for the opening of the supposedly fabled 'Chamber of Secrets.' Under the secretive administration of Albus Dumbledore, very little information was released about the Chamber's opening and subsequent closing. However, our new sources have confirmed that which has long been rumored; the Dark Lord was active at Hogwarts in the 1992-1993 school year, although not in the capacity that many expected._

 _Over the preceding summer, the diary fell into the possession of none other than an eleven year old Ginny Weasley (none other the current girlfriend of Harry Potter, and as-of-yet unsigned aspiring Quidditch Chaser). Those of you who've been paying attention to my recent writing will hardly be surprised by this latest dalliance with the Dark Arts by the youngest of the Weasley children. Indeed, multiple interviews with students who attended Hogwarts at the time confirm suspicious behavior all year long._

 _Reportedly, Ms. Weasley opened the Chamber and unleashed the beast within, and lost control after several attacks that left four students petrified for a significant portion of the year. She was eventually taken into the Chamber herself, where she would be rescued by Harry Potter himself. Fortunately, no lasting damage was done to any of the victims, and the questionable decision was made to cover up the whole incident. This is enough to make one wonder what Harry Potter could possibly see in such a suspicious character. This reporter would cautiously suggest keeping an eye on our prized hero. During a recent interview he showed signs of being slightly dazed as though places under the effects of a Confundus Charm, or perhaps even the Imperius Curse, although this could of course be chalked up to his usual delightful simplicity._

 _As the disturbing flouting of justice by Albus Dumbledore is not the primary focus of this article, we now move on to the possible existence of more Horcruxes. A bit of speculation is required to connect the dots here, but we at the Prophet are willing to propose a fresh explanation for the disappearance of Harry Potter during the rise of the Dark Lord. Potter and his close friends have remained somewhat cagey about his whereabouts, saying only that they were preparing to confront He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. This has struck many as rather unlikely, given the sudden nature of the his confrontation with the Dark Lord at Hogwarts last Summer. Rather, it seems much more likely that Potter and his friends spent the year searching out the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, with their search leading them back to the school (which it should be noted was one of Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's strongest bastions at the time)._

 _Unfortunately, faithful readers will have to wait just a bit longer for more of this story, but rest assured that there will be more. Be ready for my new book detailing the life of Harry Potter, from the secrets his parents hid at Hogwarts all the way up to the present day, set to hit shelves by next year, accompanied by a companion piece on the Dark Lord himself. In these biographies, I'll be covering subjects ranging from the full story of the Chamber of Secrets, to the possibility that more Horcruxes could exist, leading to a second revival of the Dark Lord. Keep an eye out for coming excerpts as if your life depends on it; after all, it just might._

Suddenly it became clear what Rita had discussing with Lucius Malfoy after his trial. Harry had found it a bit odd that Rita hadn't written anything about it after going through the trouble of attending, and now he figured he had a good idea of why. Either he'd offered the Diary and the story behind it as payment for her not running the story and disgracing him further, or she had somehow found out that it was in his possession and had simply attended to gain leverage over him. No doubt that Malfoy had his mind set on climbing back into the public eye, and throwing Harry and Ginny under the bus would be an unexpected bonus if it meant anything at all to him.

Harry was sure that Ginny hadn't gotten around to reading the paper on the table. As it had still tied up with the usual bit of string, it must have either been delivered after she departed, or she was simply too tired to bother with reading it. Harry silently cursed Rita Skeeter for her timing. He knew that Ginny was still a bit sore about having been possessed by Voldemort; to his recollection, she'd only mentioned it once in his company. Some dark corner of Harry's mid doubted that the article had ben unintentionally published on Ginny's birthday. Rita definitely knew how to aim a low blow, if nothing else.

Harry was already fuming as he left for work; fortunately, his coworkers seemed to know better than to take Rita Skeeter seriously, and didn't even bring it up. Still, the time offered by Ron's interview forced him even deeper into his own head. He knew that Ginny would be arriving to an empty house, with that damned paper that he'd foolishly left out still waiting on the table. Then, he'd have to tell her that he didn't even have a present ready. No, that wouldn't be acceptable. He'd have to take drastic action. He'd hoped that it would be some time before he'd have to pull out his backup plan, but there was no helping it. He made his decision as he rounded back on the house where Ron was now waiting for him.

"Anything going there?" Harry asked, not as interested in the answer as he'd normally have been.

"Maybe." Ron said. "Hard to say for sure. Guy was one of Dolohov's old dorm mates at school. Had a bit of info about his old habits, some places he'd talked about going after school. Just basic stuff like that. We've probably already got most of it, you want a look?" He offered the notepad to Harry.

"Nah." Harry said. "Look, I've got some stuff to take care of, I'll take a look tomorrow, alright?"

For once, Ron seemed to catch on instantly. "Yeah, good idea mate. I'll hold down the fort. You just make sure that she's alright, yeah? And Hermione sends her best too. I think she feels kind of bad about losing her grip on Skeeter."

"Ginny's tough, she'll get by okay." Harry said. "Don't worry about it, it's just the timing that's bad. I reckon I can maybe head things off a bit, though." Harry felt a bit bad about dumping the rest of the day's workload on Ron's shoulders, but it did help to know that Ron understood. Hoping that he wouldn't regret what he was about to do, he set off for Hogsmeade.

Just under two hours later, Harry sat at the dinner table, watching the door with some trepidation. He still wasn't sure what to expect, but he'd had Kreacher go all out with dinner just in case. Harry had somewhat surprised when she'd asked for an intimate dinner as opposed to a proper party, but it seems for the best given the circumstances.

Ginny stumbled through the door at half-past four, covered in dirt and looking half dead. As soon as she'd slammed the door behind her, she threw herself on the couch and collapsed facedown.

"We're doomed." She groaned, her voice muffled by the couch's puffy cushions. "We're a month into practice, and we're only getting worse. This team has to be cursed, there's no other way that we could put in forty hours a week and come out worse than when we started."

Harry hadn't counted on this turn of events. He'd known that she hadn't been completely satisfied with practice so far, but she sounded utterly defeated. He had a momentary urge to reassure her that curses weren't real, but managed to catch himself just in time. Curses absolutely _were_ real, and if he didn't handle this properly, he'd quite possibly find himself on the wrong end of a nasty one.

He gathered that she wasn't aware of the article yet. He'd hoped to use his present to soften the blow afterward, but now figured that he'd be better off using it to buffer the two blows.

"So… Happy birthday, Ginny." He said, not entirely sure how to proceed. In the end, he figured he'd just go for it. "I got you something."

Her face reappeared from the couch, looking a bit more cheerful. "Well, I'd hope so." She joked.

Harry whistled. There was a sound of scampering paws from upstairs, and an enormous bushy tail popped into sight from around the corner. Ginny gasped as the giant black cat popped its head over the couch to greet her.

Knowing Ginny's fondness for cats, Harry had stopped into the pet store after work and requested the fluffiest one in stock. He'd come out with a thirty pound Maine Coon that could stretch its way up to his chest if it wanted to, which it definitely had. Luckily, the creature was already well trained, and quite intelligent. He'd even been assured by the shopkeep that it would be capable of defending his home, although he seriously doubted that looking at it now. The moment that Ginny picked it up to pat it, it fell limp and began to purr softly.

"Oh…" Ginny moaned softly. "She's so precious. Does she have a name?"

"How'd you know it's a girl?" Harry asked.

"Silly Harry thinks I don't know a lady when I see one." Ginny said, talking more to the cat than to Harry. "But what's your name, though?

"The guy at the store said it was Camilla." Harry said.

"Oh, I like that." Ginny said. "But I hope you won't mind if I call you Cammy sometimes?" Camilla closed her eyes and continued to purr lazily. Harry made a mental note not to forget to arm his security charms that night.

Harry really hated to spoil her moment, but he figured that while she was holding an enormous fluffy cat was as good a chance as he'd be getting to break the bad news.

"So, I don't really know how to say this, but there's something you really should know." Harry said quietly.

"Oh? And what's that?" Ginny was still paying more attention to Camilla, who now appeared to be in a dead sleep, sprawled all over Ginny's lap. Wordlessly, he handed the paper over. Her face darkened as she scanned the paper. "Well, I guess that we knew she was going to blow the Horcruxes open eventually."

"Forget that for a second." Harry said. "Are you okay with… You know, the rest of it?" Harry asked.

Ginny remained thoughtful for a moment before responding. Harry could nearly see that battle raging between her natural instincts to keep her troubles from burdening him, and her professed desire to deepen their relationship. "I don't really know." She said finally. "I mean, I've always been kind of surprised that it stayed a secret for so long. I guess that kind of worked against me in the end… Made it that much easier to make it seem suspicious, you know? But really, this whole Chamber of Secrets thing is small potatoes right now. Who cares if people think I'm a lunatic who set a monster loose on her classmates when they find out I'm only making thirty-five percent of my shots on the Quidditch Pitch?"

Harry could tell she was putting on a brave face, but he hadn't really expected anything less. Still, he was happy that she seemed to be coping fine. His happiness was rather short-lived, as they were interrupted by two large owls rapping on the window, carrying a long, thin package between them. Instantly, his relief was overtaken by annoyance.

"Fantastic." He grumbled. "Of course it arrives now. Because two hours ago would've been too much to ask. Who sends out orders at this time of day anyway?" Harry sighed, letting the owls in and relieving them of their burden. He was slightly tempted to send an irritated letter back with them, but they seemed to sense his displeasure and took off as soon as he'd taken the neatly wrapped package.

"Well, this is what I'd originally planned to get you." He said, handing the package over. "Happy birthday again, I guess. Sorry about it not being wrapped properly."

Harry could tell by the flash in her eyes that she already knew what it was as soon as she'd taken it in her hands. "Woah…" She said, turning her new racing broom over to examine it. It was a gorgeous shade of midnight blue along the handle, with the word _ThunderClap I_ embossed in pearlescent white script near the tip. Not to be outshone, the neatly combed bristles glinted in a dull silver.

"How the hell did you pull this off, Harry?" Ginny asked incredulously. "They aren't supposed to release for another month…"

"I might've had to drop my name a few times." Harry grinned. Her reaction was everything that he'd hoped for and then some; if there was anybody that he could count on to appreciate a fine broom as much as he did, it was Ginny. "I had to promise that I'd publicly endorse it later, and that it wouldn't be used in public until the release."

"Well that shouldn't be a problem." Ginny said. "Wood's banned us from bringing anybody to practice, and with the way that they've been going none of us are going to argue that. Between you and me, I'm pretty sure that he's been researching the Fidelius Charm to cast on the practice field.

Suddenly, she seemed to have a thought. "You should keep this, Harry. You've already gotten me a present, and this is really too much." She fondly scratched Camilla behind the ear. The enormous cat absently twitched her leg, completely knocking over the coffee table next to the couch.

"Nah, it's yours." Harry said, waving his hand. "I think I'll get another Firebolt somewhere down the road, but you need that right now. You can't go out into the professional League on a used Cleansweep Seven, it just isn't done. Just let me ride it to work if Wood ever gives you day off and we're square."

There was that odd, slightly open mouthed look on her face again. By now, Harry thought he had a good idea of what this meant, until-"

"Well, let's go out and give it a go, then." Ginny said suddenly.

"Yeah, let's- Pardon?" Harry stammered. Maybe he hadn't figured her out quite as much as he'd thought. "Right now? I mean, Kreacher's worked really hard on dinner, and there's still everybody else's presents…"

"Hmm…" Ginny said thoughtfully. "I suppose you're right, it'll have to wait until tomorrow." She put the broom down somewhat sadly. Harry almost regretted talking her down; he knew as well as anybody how difficult it was to do anything else when there was a fresh broomstick ready to be tested, but as he'd skipped breakfast due to lack of appetite and lunch in order to prepare, the feast that Kreacher had prepared was calling out to him.

While Harry knew that the whole situation had gone down about as well as he had any right to hope for, he couldn't suppress the nagging feeling that he wasn't done dealing with the fallout from the article. As hard as he tried to suppress the dark thoughts brewing in the back of his mind as he sat down with Ginny at the candle-lit table, he knew that nothing good could come from such evil magic getting wide exposure. Pushing this to the back of his mind, he resolved to enjoy these quiet, happy moments while they lasted.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry and Ron didn't have their first real break in the Dolohov case until mid-september. Their diligent research had led them to some former associates of Dolohov's, who they were tailing carefully. By this point, Harry and Ron had gathered an inordinate amount of experience with stakeouts; they'd spent so much time carefully watching suspicious location and people that there was Harry now felt a very bizarre sort of nostalgia that came along with voyeurism.

As Harry's prized invisibility cloak was now much too small to conceal both of them, they'd had to resort to more creative means. Inspired by Mr. Weasley's old Ford Anglia and the detective television programs that Dudley had been fond of (mostly for the beatdowns and gunfights), Harry had come up with the idea on an invisible car that they could use to hide in plain sight. Normally, this would be strictly banned under various restrictions, however going through channels in the Ministry, they'd been able to get permission. Mr. Weasley had helped them procurement and enchant the vehicle; he'd managed to find them a very roomy van. Aside from installing an invisibility booster, they'd also placed charms to completely soundproof it and equipped it with a pantry and modest sleeping space so that one of them would be able to rest during long shifts.

It was one such stakeout that found them on a rainy Friday, evening parked outside the house of Garrison Hornell, an old school friend of Dolohov's whom they had been given reason to believe was their best chance of making contact with Dolohov. Hornell was a low level employee with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so Harry and Ron had been forced to be careful not to let him on their trailThey'd been waiting outside the house several hours an evening for a fortnight, and were beginning to grow restless.

"I dunno, mate." Ron said over the chessboard propped up on the dashboard. "This bloke barely leaves his house. I don't know if we're going to catch him up to anything."

"Yeah, maybe." Harry said glumly, watching his as his queen was smashed down by Ron's rook in a sacrifice that was both unnecessary and unintentional. "I guess it seemed too easy to be true."

"You reckon we should pass the lead on? You know, have somebody else keep an eye on the place just in case and move on to the next thing?" Ron asked.

"I don't see why not." Harry said. "I don't think anybody's going to have the time to pick up the lead, though. Especially with it being so faint. We don't even know for sure that this guy has anything to do with Dolohov anymore. Shame about all the time we've wasted here, but I guess you don't know until you try."

"Yeah. But at least there's Quidditch starting up tomorrow to look forward to, yeah?"

This was true; the first matches of the new season would be taking place, and Ginny had managed to get them good seats at the Cannons' first game against the Falmouth Falcons. They were both quite interested to see what they'd been working on for the previous month.

"Hey, hold on…" Harry whispered. He pulled out his omnioculars and looked down the road. "Here comes somebody." A tall, bulky figure had appeared over the top of the hill down the road. He hadn't apparated, but was clearly a wizard, as indicated by his black robes. Even from a distance, Harry could see that his clothes were worn, and he had an exhausted air about him. Harry thought the wizard looked like he could fall over at any moment; he was walking slowly as though intoxicated, and wobbled slightly with every step. "Is that anybody that we know?" Harry asked handing over the omnioculars to Ron.

"Hmm… I think it just might be." Ron shuffled through a stack of photos of known Death Eater associates and Undesirables. "Yeah, this looks about right." He passed the photo over to Harry. Sure enough, the sickly, bearded face in the photo was a near perfect match for the wizard now walking down the street toward them. On the back of the photo, Harry read: _'Faron Gilchrist; known werewolf and associate of Fenrir Greyback. Wanted in relation to eight maulings bitings and three fatal maulings.'_

"That can't be a coincidence." Harry said. His heart was pounding with excitement; this was the closest that they'd come since they'd started with the Auror Office. Ron made as if to get out of the car, but Harry grabbed his arm to stop him. "Hold up a second… We just have to make sure that he's really here to see Hornell, the we've got them both.

It was an agonizing few minutes while they waited for Gilchrist to stumble his way up the street. He seemed to have a rather awkward limp, as though one leg was significantly longer than the other. At long last, he made it to the spot not the street just in front of the house Harry and Ron had been watching. Slowly, he turned to the small house and began to traverse the lawn. Again, Ron started to leave the car but was stopped by Harry.

"Let him get inside." Harry wasn't entirely sure why, but his instincts were screaming at him to hold on a bit longer. Almost as soon as Gilchrist knocked on the door, it cracked open. Harry could just barely see a sliver of Hornell's face, looking anxious. He didn't open the door, hissing something inaudible. It wasn't until Gilchrist let out a menacing growl that Hornell finally yielded, letting the werewolf inside with reluctance plain to see on his face.

"Stay here for a second." Harry said, pulling his invisibility cloak out of his bag. "I'm going to see if I can't get a closer look. I'll signal before I make a move." Ron nodded, and Harry pulled the cloak over himself and exited the van. As quietly as he could, he snuck up to the house, trying to avoid crunching the dead grass of the lawn. As he reached the front of the house, he drew his wand and lightly tapped it against the window, vanishing a small circle of the windowpane. Next, he withdrew a long, pink string from his pocket; one of George's Extendable Ears. He took one end of the string and gently pushed it through the hole he'd made, and inserted the other into his ear. Thankfully, Hornell and Gilchrist must have only been in the next room over; Harry could still faintly make out their voices.

"Greyback wants to know what went wrong." Gilchrist growled. "And as you can see, I'm quite curious myself."

The voice that answered was not the meek whine of Garrison Hornell. Instead, Harry was startled to hear the cold sneer of Antonin Dolohov himself. "Greyback must have failed to follow the recipe."

"Nonsense." Gilchrist said, sounding more agitated by the minute. "We had it done by an expert apothecary, on threat of his daughters life. It was done perfectly, and just look what it did to me!"

"He probably knew that you were going to kill the girl anyway and sabotaged it as an act of defiance. But you know very well that it wasn't I who created the potion; I'm simply a messenger. Still, I fail to see how a crippled beast should be any of my concern."

There was a brief sound of scrambling, and Harry had to assume that Gilchrist had launched himself across the room at Dolohov. "I WANT A NAME." Harry winced; he doubted that he would have needed the Extendable Ears to hear Gilchrist's shouting. "If you won't, then we will pay him a visit and make him fix this."

"A name, hm?" Harry was surprised to hear a faint note of amusement in Dolohov's voice. "Impossible, for more reasons than you know. But… As a show of good faith, I will contact my source and report your… Concerns. The next time it is safe to leave the house I will pay him a visit, and send Hornell to you with the good word. Count on it in no more than a month."

Gilchrist began drawing a sharp, angry breath, but stopped abruptly. "What's that smell…" He began sniffing audibly. "I smell the outdoors…"

"Idiot! Have you left the windows open again?" Dolohov hissed.

"N-no!" Hornell stammered. "Of course not!"

"Go and make sure." Dolohov said. Harry cursed internally. Thinking quickly, he hastily returned the Extendable Ears to his pocket and pointed his wand through the opening he'd created in the window. Holding his breath, he waited under the invisibility cloak for Hornell to reappear.

"Stupefy!" Harry said quietly as soon as he reappeared. Hornell was thrown against the wall, unconscious before he'd even hit the ground. Knowing that he would have to act quickly to maintain the element of surprise, he pointed his wand at the wall in the direction he'd heard the voices coming from before, and shouted _"Confringo!"_

The wall of the house violently exploded inward. Harry knew that he'd have some questions to answer about why he'd blown up a house in the middle of a muggle neighborhood, but he didn't care at the moment. He rushed in, blasting the next wall out of the way as well. He could see them now; he'd succeeded in knocking out Dolohov, but Gilchrist was somehow still standing. Up close, Harry could see the deformities that he'd been complaining about. Under his robes, Harry could make out an odd bend to his leg as though he had a hunch, and his arms were unnaturally long. He stood still and sneered at Harry, his own wand drawn and at the ready.

Harry could see him calculating his next move.

"Oi, nice signal there, Harry." Ron said, his breathing slightly heavy from his dash from the van. "What in the bloody hell is going on here anyway?"

Harry and Gilchrist both remained silent, neither wanting to make the first move. For what seemed like ages, nobody moved. Then, out of nowhere, a jet of red light burst from Gilchrist's wand. Harry was ready for the stunning spell; he effortlessly cast a shield charm to deflect the stunner. Ron leapt into action, casting his own stunning spell, which was in turn deflected by Gilchrist.

The werewolf took advantage of the confusion, launching himself with inhuman speed at the unconscious Dolohov. "NO!" Harry shouted, launching another curse, but it was too late. Gilchrist flashed a smile full of unnaturally sharp teeth at the two of them before disapparating on the spot.

"Damn…" Harry groaned. They'd come so close; if only he'd thought to signal Ron, or acted a bit sooner…

"What was all that about?" Ron asked. "I thought you were going to call me in?"

"Sorry." Harry said. "The plan changed, I got busted. That guy, Gilchrist…" He _smelled_ me…"

"Well, you have been in the car for a while. I wasn't going to say anything, though." Ron said cheekily.

"At least it wasn't a complete loss." Harry said, walking over to the spot were Gilchrist was stirring slightly. "We've got this rat now, he should be able to tell us a thing or two." He looked around, surveying the destruction. Muggles who'd heard the explosions were beginning to emerge from their houses. "Ah, damn. We'd better get some obligators down here…"

A half hour later, they'd relocated to a small dungeon-like room in the Ministry Basement. Much like the Courtroom, the interrogation room was kept deliberately dark and gloomy for the sake of intimidation. Hornell was slumped in front of them, one arm fastened to his chair to prevent him from fleeing.

"You ready?" Harry asked. Ron nodded in response, and Harry pointed his wand at Hornell's forehead. _"Ennervate."_ Hornell's eyes instantly snapped open. For a moment, they were glassy and unfocused until they suddenly locked onto the tip of Harry's wand, still pointed at his face.

"Welcome back." Harry said cheerily. "Sorry about having to call you back to the office so late, but something urgent's come up."

Hornell didn't say anything. All of the color had drained from his face, and was being replaced by an ugly green. Instead, Ron continued Harry's train of thought. "I'm sure you know what's going on here, but as a formality we have to inform you that you're under arrest."

"Sorry, mate." Harry said, feigning sympathy. "You didn't leave us a whole lot of choice, though. Keeping a Death Eater in your house and all."

Hornell determinedly maintained his silence. Harry had been expecting this; everybody present knew that Hornell's time as a free man would be over as soon as he spoke up. Harry and Ron simply had to convince him that this was his best course of action.

Ron whistled, breaking the silence and startling Hornell. "Not just any Death Eater, Harry. Dolohov's, what, Undesirable number five?"

"Four, actually." Harry corrected calmly. "They bumped up Greyback, remember?"

"Oh yeah, that's right." Ron said. "So that's _two_ nasty little friends you're in with, eh?"

"I've never met Greyback before." Hornell said abruptly. He instantly seemed to regret speaking. Harry knew that now that he'd started, it'd be easier to keep him talking. This was good; Harry was sure that they'd be able to get approval for a truth potion, but that would take time and paperwork. A willing confession would be much easier, if they took the right tactics.

"That may be true." Ron said. "But it hardly matters, when you think about it. You think that's really going to make a difference when you're on trial? They're going to roast you."

"Let's not be hasty…" Harry said. "You're Hornell, yeah?"

"Um… Yes." Hornell said, caught off balance.

"You have a family, Hornell?" Harry said slowly.

Hornell answered slowly and reluctantly. "I have an ex-wife."

Harry already knew this, of course, but he needed Hornell to come to him. "I see. And any kids?" He continued pressing.

"I have two daughters." Hornell said shortly.

"You haven't done right by them, you know." Harry said. "Dolohov is dangerous, how could you bring them into this?" Harry knew that he wasn't saying anything Hornell didn't know. He had no doubt that Hornell had already considered the danger that Dolohov could pose to his family, and it didn't feel good using that as leverage. But Harry knew that he had to do anything he could to catch Remus Lupin's killer. "Look, I'm going to get right to the point, because there isn't a lot of time here. By now, Dolohov is probably awake and angry." He paused to let this sink in. "There's no way you're getting away from this scot-free. But we can minimize. You know the deal. Your family is already in protective custody. The more you tell us now, the better equipped we are to protect them, and the better you look when you go on trial."

"Or," Ron cut in, "You don't help us, Dolohov stays free, and rewards you by taking out your family and probably you if he gets the chance." Harry took out his D.A. coin, feigning disinterest as he flipped it between his fingers. He was becoming quite proficient with it. "And that's not a threat." Ron continued. "We know Dolohov. He's not a forgiving sort of fellow. He's probably already at your ex's house looking for them. So you really don't have a lot to gain by keeping quiet here."

Hornell remained silent, but his face was less determined now. Harry could tell that he only needed a small push. "We've been generous so far, and assumed that you're keeping quiet for the sake of your family." He said slowly, forcing Hornell to hang on his every word. "But now that we've made it clear that you have nothing to gain in that respect, we're going to have to interpret any further resistance as loyalty to Dolohov."

"Alright, alright." Hornell was visibly sweating. "I don't know much, though. He was just living there, he didn't tell me anything. But I overheard some things."

"Anything helps." Harry said, trying not to sound too eager.

"He showed up at my door two months ago." Hornell said. "I didn't want him there; I know he's toxic. But he's powerful, and a better duelist than me by far." Harry knew that he was downplaying their relationship, but he didn't care about nailing Hornell when Dolohov was on the line. "He said he was just laying low, but it wasn't long before he had… Visitors. Mostly Greyback's people."

"Are they planning something?" Harry asked, so close that he could practically taste success. "Is that what they were arguing about back there?"

"Yes… In a way." Hornell continued. "They have some sort of arrangement. Dolohov has some kind of informant who he claims knows magic that's never been seen before. He's promised Greyback a potion that allows a werewolf to transform at will, and without losing his sanity. But the recipe was flawed."

"So that's what happened to Gilchrist?" Harry asked. "He drank a bad potion?"

"Yes." Hornell confirmed. "He's stuck mid-transformation."

"And I'll bet anything that he's taken Dolohov back to Greyback…" Harry said, with some satisfaction. If anybody deserved to be in Greyback's questionable hospitality, it was Antonin Dolohov. "But what is it that Dolohov was getting in exchange for the potion?"

Hornell squirmed uncomfortably. "You have to understand, I don't know the details, only what I've overheard-"

"Yes, but you do know something." Harry said, his patience wearing thin. "So get on with it."

"He needed… Manpower." Hornell said cautiously. "Or wolfpower. He's trying to steal something."

Harry leaned in closer. He could see that Hornell was trying to hedge, and was having no more of it. "Tell me what he was trying to steal. Even the Death Eaters didn't like Greyback, what would he be so desperate to get that it meant teaming up with werewolves?"

Hornell squirmed uncomfortably, but he could sense that Harry was no longer going to tolerate his stalling. "He's trying to steal…" He took a deep breath as though steadying himself. "He's trying to steal the Dark Lord's corpse."


	11. Chapter 11

"He wants… Voldemort's body?" Harry said, his mind reeling with the possibilities of what this could mean. His face face suddenly rather numb and cold. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know." Hornell said. "He was just using my house, he didn't tell me about his plans. Like I said, I only know the vague details that I overheard in his conversations with Greyback's people."

"And you're sure about this?" Harry asked, feeling slightly desperate. "There's no possible way that you could have misinterpreted?"

Hornell shrugged. "I heard what I heard."

Harry turned and left the room without another word. His brain was screaming in a thousand different directions at once. Surely there was no way that Voldemort could be brought back to life… Such things were impossible, even for the strongest wizards. But then he remembered the other significant bit of what Hornell had said. _'An informant who he claims knows magic that's never been seen before.'_ Ron caught up beside him, but Harry still didn't say anything.

They walked in silence until they reached the Minister's office. They flashed their badges to the secretary keeping watch, who let them in. Fortunately, Kingsley was still there, poring over stacks of parchment. He looked up at them as the door entered, and flashed a warm smile. "Potter, Weasley. Rowedder's said you've settled in well, but it's good to see you for myself."

"I'm afraid that you'll probably think differently soon." Harry said bluntly. "We need to know what happened to Voldemort's body."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "What's going on here, Potter? That's some sensitive information, you know. Not that you aren't qualified, but would you mind explaining what you're after here?"

Harry quickly filled him in on the night's events. As Harry progressed through his tale, Kingsley's face grew darker by the minute. "I see…" He said in his deep, measured voice. "This is a troubling development. But I don't think that we have anything to fear; the body is being kept under the highest security in the Department of Mysteries, under my direct orders. It's whereabouts are known only by myself, my most trusted Unspeakables, and now the two of you. It'll take more than a bit of werewolf muscle to get at it."

"Why wasn't it destroyed?" Harry asked. "If it's in the Department of Mysteries… Surely you aren't _studying_ it?"

"Not by choice, I assure you." Kingsley said grimly. "But as all of our attempts to dispose of the body have failed, we have little choice. We still aren't sure if it was intentional, or just a side effect of his Horcruxes, or something else entirely. But as of yet, we haven't been able to destroy it. However, now that we know Death Eaters are after it, we can double up on security. Rest assured, they won't be getting. it. You've done good work today; go home and get some rest. I'll handle it from here."

They thanked Kingsley for his time and went on their way, still not entirely reassured. There were too many unanswered questions for either of them to be put at ease. Harry felt a bit nauseous; he had been sure that he'd finally be able to put an end to that chapter of his life. The idea of a second return of Voldemort was simply unthinkable; it filled him with a peculiar mixture of cold fear and white-hot rage. Hadn't he done enough to earn his peace? Hadn't Voldemort done enough to yield his right to continue existing? And to have to start over with a renewed sense of futility. Harry's mind forcibly drifted back to when he'd broken up with Ginny to avoid painting a target on her. No, he couldn't go through that again.

Harry knew that he was getting ahead of himself. By all accounts, they were now several steps ahead of Dolohov, and there was no real proof that he actually had a way to bring Voldemort back. Still, Harry couldn't keep these dark thoughts from circling around his brain, waiting for any idle moment to crop back up to the forefront.

Harry was tormented by his own thoughts until he reached home. As soon as he opened the door he saw Ginny lying on her back on the floor, tossing a weighted medicine ball and catching it. She was sweating from the effort, and her hair was sticking to her forehead. Still, she smelled as pleasant and flowery as ever, Harry couldn't help but musing. Suddenly, the potentially looming threat of Voldemort's return didn't feel quite so real.

"Oi, it's about time!" She said, snapping him back to reality. "You missed dinner. You could at least send an owl if you're going to be out this late!"

Harry couldn't help grinning despite himself. "You sound just like your mum."

Ginny's jaw dropped slightly. "Oh, damn, I do…" She didn't quite seem to know how to process this. Inexplicably, Harry thought back to their breakup, and the disturbing news came crashing back. It must have shown on his face, because Ginny shot him a concerned look. "Is everything alright, Harry?" She asked. "You're looking pale…"

"Just a long day at work." He brushed her off. There was no need to trouble her at this stage, he told himself. Especially when he knew so little in the first place.

She didn't seem completely convinced, but played along anyway. "Well, you'd better not have overworked yourself too hard. I don't care how sick you've made yourself, you're still coming to my match tomorrow."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Harry smiled. "But shouldn't you be in bed? It's getting late, and you'll want to be well-rested for tomorrow."

"Just finishing up my exercises." She said, leaning back and resuming with tossing the medicine ball.

It was now Harry's turn to be keep quiet; he'd played Quidditch long enough to know that physical exercise would do little more than make her a bit sore the next day, and that she would likely be better off with a light warm up to keep loose and a day of rest. More likely, she was too nervous to sleep and was trying to wear herself out. Harry briefly entertained the idea of trying to convince her to stop, but kew that it would be a vain effort. Instead, he sat down on the floor beside her.

"You do your crunches yet?" He asked casually, holding her feet to the floor.

She smiled gratefully and caught the ball a final time, instead pressing it to her chest to use as additional weight. "Thanks, Harry." She said. Harry settled himself in; having seen her workout regimen, he knew that they could be in for a late night.

By the time that Harry awoke the next morning, he'd convinced himself that he'd been overreacting the previous night. There was nothing that could revive the dead, and as Kingsley had said, Voldemort's body was far too well protected; especially now. Ginny also seemed cheerier than usual. Harry suspected that she was overcompensating for nerves, but knew better than to attempt to corner her into admitting so. Rather, he spent a good chunk of the morning helping her review plays.

"I hope Wood's right about this…" Ginny said. "I mean, it's the Falcons. They aren't exactly known for their finesse, you know what I mean?"

Harry thought on this for a moment. The Falmouth Falcons, who would be playing against the Cannons later in the day were certainly not known for their tactical precision. They took a distinctively 'might makes right' approach, which seemed to work for them quite well. They were known for brutally using their size and controlling games through aggressive fouling. They'd taken second in the League the previous season, and looked to be in good shape to repeat their performance. They would be quite a difficult match for the scrappy Cannons, who would be relying on intense practice and low expectations to counter their relative inexperience in the early season.

"You'll be fine." Harry said, loading up his plate with bacon. "These are good plays, and I know Wood. He wouldn't be trying if you guys couldn't pull them off."

"That's not really what I mean…" Ginny said. "What if they just don't bite? I mean, the only shot we have is misdirection. We don't have a chance if they see through our tricks. What if they just brute force us?"

If Harry hadn't known her so well, he wouldn't have been able to hear the worry in her voice. As it was, he could just barely pick it up under her determinedly casual voice. She didn't let her guard down more than this very often; it was actually quite charming.

"Then you'll just outplay them." He said simply. "Every strategy has a weakness, and they've gone all in on one strategy. Yeah, it's a good one, but somebody has to be able to counter it. And you guys have a little bit of everything. You've got the tools to get the job done, now you just have to find their weak point. And there's nobody better at that than Oliver Wood. You're on a great team, and you've got great instincts. You're going to be great."

"Hm… Right." Ginny said, smiling discreetly as she return to her studying with renewed determination.

The rest of the morning was spent in near silence as Ginny doubled down on her focus. Once she'd managed to force down a decent breakfast, she got up to leave, stealing a kiss for good luck and leaving Harry with a few hours to kill before leaving for the match. Standing up, he throught that he'd head to Ron and Hermione's place a bit early. He'd already planned to meet up with them so they could head to the stadium together, but he really wanted to discuss the events of the previous day as soon as possible.

Deciding that it was late enough in the morning to pay a visit, he said goodbye to Kreacher and set off. It took him some time to find the place; as he was leaving significantly early, he felt it would be rude to use floo powder like normal. The directions that Ron had given him weren't as helpful as they could have been. All Harry had to go on were some vague instructions about vaguely detailing entering an alley and giving a password, and the address '252 Belmont Street.' While Harry was quite confident in his ability to defend himself, he'd definitely prefer to avoid walking down London's shadiest alleyways giving passwords to trashcans if at all possible.

Finally, he found a place that seemed to fit the bill. The alley had all of the distinct hallmarks of having been enchanted: all of the muggles passing by seemed to be completely ignoring its presence, moving their eyes from one side of it to the other. Warily, he took his first few steps down the side street. It was actually surprisingly clean for a deserted London alley, and much more well-lit than he would have guessed from outside. At the end was a rusted steel door, covered in spray-painted graffiti. Among the various names and incomprehensible symbols, Harry could make out the word 'Belmont' in red paint. Somewhat proud of himself, he stated the password that Ron had given him (Falicorn). The door creaked open of it's own accord, revealing a hallway that stretched as far as Harry could see, irregularly dotted with oddly colored doors.

"Greetings." Harry was slightly startled by a smooth male voice that seemed to come from the ceiling directly above him. "Please state your name and the apartment number that you wish to visit."

"Harry Potter, for Apartment 252." Harry said.

"Thank you." The voice responded. "Pending the tenant's approval, you will be routed to their residence. Have a pleasant day."

Harry had to wait only a moment before the hallway started contracting, the doors zooming past him as they shrunk into nothing. Finally, they came to an abrupt stop, leaving him in front of a maroon door with the number 252 on it. Still reeling a bit from the sensation of having travelled a hundred yards without moving at all, he reached out an arm to knock on the door. Before he could, it was flung open. He was greeted by Ron, dressed in his most vibrant Chudley Cannons gear. He was wearing an audaciously orange shirt printed with the slogan _'Live by the Cannon, Die by the Cannon!'_ over his finest replica Cannons Quidditch Robes. His hat was an equally violent orange, and clashed fantastically with his hair. The overall effect was somewhat alarming.

"Morning." Ron said excitedly. "We going early? I've been telling Hermione that it'd be a good idea to get there early, grab seats and all-"

"To which I answered that we have perfectly good seats, and there would be no point at all." Hermione chipped in, appearing behind Ron. "Morning, Harry." She added brightly.

"Well, there's sometimes pre-game commentary, and a merchandise booth, and all kinds of other good stuff…" Ron said. "What do you think, Harry?"

"Actually, I need to talk to you guys here for a bit." Harry said. It kind of hurt to see the betrayed look on Ron's face, but he knew that they wouldn't be able to talk about classified Ministry investigations in the middle of a Quidditch stadium.

"Of course, come in." Hermione said, closing the door behind him. "I kind of expected it as soon as Ron told me what happened last night. How are you holding up?"

"Fine, I just need to pick your brains a bit." Harry said. "See if we can figure out what's going on, and what our next steps should be."

"I don't think we have much to worry about." Ron said. "You-Know-Who's dead, Dolohov just doesn't know when to give up. I reckon he went loony in Azkaban, and just doesn't know when to quit. But he's never going to be able to get that body, and the worst that he can do if he does is give it a nice burial."

"And Hermione?" Harry said, turning to her. She didn't look completely convinced by Ron's explanation.

"I don't know." She said quietly. "I don't think that there's any way that he could come back, but that doesn't mean that there's nothing that could go wrong."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, not at all sure that he really wanted to hear the answer.

"Well, think about the first time that he came back." Hermione said. "You remember how it happened, right?"

Harry had few memories more vivid than the night that Voldemort returned. As he reluctantly relived the horrible night, the idea of what Hermione was getting at took form in his mind. "You mean the potion."

"Exactly." Hermione said. "Or something like it, at least."

Ron blankly turned his head back in forth to look at them. "I don't follow, what are you two talking about?"

"The potion that Voldemort used to come back." Hermione said. "The primary ingredients were the bones of his father, Wormtail's flesh, and Harry's blood." She said the last bit with revulsion. "I don't think it'd work a second time, not with the Horcruxes gone. But there are other potions out there that use body parts as ingredients, and they can be quite nasty. The practice is heavily restricted in most of the world, mostly due to the nature of gathering… 'ingredients,' so there isn't a ton of information out there. But if Dolohov really does have somebody with that kind of knowledge in his corner, it could mean trouble. And we can't rule out the possibility of Voldemort himself having left instructions behind. I just don't like any of this at all…"

"Right…" Harry said. She'd given him a lot to think about. While he didn't like anything she'd said either, there was something strangely comforting about the logic of what she was saying. At the very least, it gave them an angle to work. "So now, we just need to do something about it."

"Well, obviously it's best if we try to head it off at the pass." Hermione said.

"Yeah, that's always worked out so well." Ron quipped. He had a point; despite their best efforts, things always seemed to spiral out of control quickly.

"You know what I mean." Hermione said. "We protect the body, and catch Dolohov before he can do whatever he's planning. And by the sound of things, we might be able to get Greyback in the same move."

This idea was quite appealing to Harry; Dolohov had earned his spot as their first target because of what he'd done to Remus Lupin, but they'd lost friends to Greyback as well. The idea of getting both at the same time was enough to put a fire in Harry's chest.

"Yeah." Harry said. "We know Greyback has him, so we'll take a look at Greyback's movements next. Now, what do you say we head off to the stadium?"

"What? We still have hours before they take the field!" Hermione said. Harry knew that she was mostly going as a show of support for Ginny. She'd never been particularly interested in Quidditch, and the idea of sitting for hours with nothing to do but listen to them talk about players and teams was not her ideal Saturday. Still, Harry figured she'd signed on for this. Somehow. And besides, the team might take to the field, where Ginny would be able to pick them out from the crowd and take a moral boost. In fact, with the way Ron was dressed, they'd probably be visible from outer space. No, there was no helping it; they simply had to go early, Harry told himself.

Only a bit later, they were strolling along the field that served as the home arena for the Chudley Cannons. Harry found it somewhat reminiscent of the Burrow, with it's overgrown grass and shabby stands. Their seats were in a private box reserved for close friends and family, situated roughly at playing height. As they were quite early, most of the stadium was mostly empty, dotted by the occasional spot of orange indicating a diehard fan.

Harry settled into himself into his seat and prepared for the long wait; they were so early that the commentators hadn't entered their box yet, and the Cannons hadn't taken to the field for warmups. At the moment it was the Falcon's turn to use the field, and it appeared that everything Harry had heard about them was true. Even their seeker, normally the smallest and fastest member of the team, was built like a tank. Looking at them, Harry couldn't help but feel that Ginny may have been right to be a bit nervous. The Falcons definitely had an air of toughness that the Cannons had no hope of matching. Still, he took some solace in the fact that their play appeared somewhat direct, likely due to their limited mobility. He was sure that smart players would be able to outmatch them; he just hoped that the Cannons had been given enough time to prepare themselves.

His musings were interrupted suddenly by a voice behind them. "Hey, glad you all made it." Ginny stood there, fully decked out in her new Quidditch Robes. Her long red hair and robes clashed in the exact same way that Ron's did, but Harry found it stunning in a completely different fashion.

"Where'd you come from?" Ron asked bluntly.

In response, Ginny pointed at a door Harry hadn't noticed in the back of the box. "It connects to the locker room." She explained. "I'd just come up to check if these pricks were showing any signs of getting off the field yet. They were supposed to yield fifteen minutes ago. Gits. At least they're finally leaving." Sure enough, Harry saw the six black and silver clad figures grounding and heading toward the other side of the pitch. As if on cue, five orange figures emerged from somewhere below them. "I'd better get going, looks like Wood's about to blow a gasket." Oliver Wood was waving frantically at her, surely panicking over the thought of a minute's missed practice. She waved back to indicate that she was coming.

"Before you go, I wanted to tell you all something." Harry could tell that she'd been holding this in for some time until they'd gathered. "I'm being promoted!" She beamed.

"Does that mean you're getting a raise?" Ron asked bluntly, prompting a smack on the back of the head from Ginny.

"Knock it off." Ginny said, scowling at him. "That's great, Hermione." She said, ignoring Wood, who'd resumed waving her over already. "If anybody's earned it, you have."

"Well, it's a bit of a lateral movement." Hermione said. "But I'm going to be the head of my own department within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Cool." Harry said. "So, what are you going to be doing there?"

"Well, the idea is to have a department that focuses on outreach to intelligent magical entities, and promote mutual understanding between them and the wizarding community. Think House-Elves, Centaurs, Mermaids, even Werewolves. The Minister agrees that they're under-represented in the Ministry. So we're forming what I'm going to call the Department for the Understanding of Magical Beings." She finished proudly.

"Er… Hermione." Harry said, having spotted a problem. "Is that name final?" Hopefully he could sort this out before Ron caught wind.

"Well, I put in the paperwork yesterday, so probably." She said. "Why, is something wrong with it?"

"It's D.U.M.B!" Ron roared with laughter, unable to contain himself. "You're going to be the head of D.U.M.B!" He fell out of his chair, and began to writhe with laughter on the ground.

"Oh, shut up." Ginny said, quickly silencing his laughter with a well-aimed quick from her Quidditch boots. "It doesn't matter if the name is a bit… Well, never mind that, what's really important is that- DAMMIT OLIVER, I TOLD YOU I'M COMING!" She screamed at the pitch, causing every head in the stadium to turn towards their box. "Honestly… I'd better get going. But wait until you hear who they've got commentating, this is going to be a nightmare." She continued mumbling under her breath until she disappeared through the door she'd come out of, quickly reappearing on the field with her broomstick in hand.

No doubt wanting to keep their playbook secret, the Cannons kept their warmup simple, only performing relatively basic passes and shooting. They used up their time and vacated the field before the crowd began showing up. In the meantime, Harry took a trip to the booth that sold team merchandise, grabbing himself a set of robes with Ginny's number, and a set that he planned to give Ron for Christmas (he'd known that Ron had always wanted a set of Cannons robes that had the name Weasley printed on the back, and he doubted that the finer details would matter). Returning to the box, Harry found that it had been filled out. Hermione and Ron had been joined by George and Percy; all four of them were scowling.

"Hey, what's going on?" Harry asked, fearing another row between them.

"The commentators have showed up." Hermione said simply, looking over at the box where they would be seated to view the match. She was saved from further explanation by the magically amplified voice that boomed throughout the stadium. Harry had heard it as he walked to his seat, but now that he was out in the open, he could clearly recognize the familiar voice.

"Alright, we're back with the latest from the oddsmakers, and they're predicting a Falcons win today, not that anybody should be too surprised." Said Ludo Bagman cheerily. Squinting, Harry could just barely make out his blonde hair and boyish face seated in the commentator's booth. His co-host was a very short man who Harry recognized from the poster's in Ron's room at the Burrow as Kenny Runnion, legendary retired Chudley Cannons seeker, and holder of the record for most Snitch Catches during losing games.

"I didn't realize that he was still around." Harry said. "I figured he must have gotten locked up or something." Ludo Bagman had been the head of the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports until he'd caught up in a number of gambling scandals, culminating in him going into hiding from Goblins that he'd been unable to pay.

"He's lucky that he's not." Hermione said angrily. "The Ministry used a lot of goodwill with the Goblins to get him out of trouble. Honestly, he's probably part of the reason that they were so passive when Voldemort took over." Harry supposed he shouldn't be too surprised by this news. Bagman had always been good at dodging trouble. At the very least, Runnion seemed to have his number. Harry gathered that they must commentate somewhat frequently, as they had something of a rapport.

"I wouldn't write them off just yet, Ludo." Runnion said. "We're looking at a scrappy young squad, and it's hard to anticipate what they're capable of."

"Bah, always the optimist." Bagman joked. "Not sure how you've kept it after playing with the Cannons for so long. But if there are two things that've always won matches for me, they're experience and muscle, and the Falcons outmatch the Cannons in both. But let's talk about the Cannons, because they do have an interesting lineup coming up. The Cannons surprised everybody by ditching their previous lineup in favor of new blood. What are you thinking about the new group so far?"

"They're interesting on paper, at least." Runnion said. "For those who don't know yet, they've taken the core of the team from the Gryffindor team at Hogwarts; they've got three of the last four team captains, and the teams that they've lead have all taken the cup. In fact, they've taken it for the last four years straight. Beating out the three in a row that you took for Hufflepuff, I might add."

"True, true." Bagman said. "But this is the big leagues we're talking about here. It's going to take something else to make it on this level, and I think it'll be clear pretty soon if they've got it. But I have to say that I like the chance that team's taking; you know that I can respect someone who takes the long odds. Now, looking at the lineup, we've got Keeper Oliver Wood at the helm. He posted good numbers in his Hogwarts career before joining Puddlemere United, where he only saw play in three games per season. After four years, he's dropped his contract with Puddlemere in favor of Chudley. League sources are crediting him as the mastermind behind this new gameplan. You liking the look of this guy, Kenny?"

"I do." Runnion said. "Wood's one of the harder workers in this league. So many young players nowadays take their talent for granted. Even as a reservist, Wood's been known to spend hours every day practicing. That's living for the game, and you don't see too much of that anymore. I think that Puddlemere is going to realize very quickly that they made a mistake benching him in favor of Redick. Especially if he can bring that fervor to this team."

"Right you are, right you are." Bagman said. "Never underestimate the power of a good attitude… Or a bad one. Which brings us to the Falcons. They haven't been afraid to throw their weight around with this lineup- quite literally. They led the League in fouls last year, and it seems to have worked out quite well for them. How do you think the Cannons stack up against that kind of force?"

"I'll say that I'm a bit worried." Runnion said. "The Falcons have perfected the art of fouling; and make no mistake, it is an art. They know when to give up a penalty throw to stop a play, and they know exactly how much they can get away with without ejections. They know that the other team can't make their penalty shots if they're seeing nine hoops. And they'll make it worth their while, too. They'll wear the enemy down with raw physicality."

"I see that being a big problem for the Cannons today." Bagman said. "They're definitely lacking size. Particularly Ginevra Weasley; at only five feet and four inches in her boots, she's not going to be able to fight through the contact that the Falcons are going to be throwing out. Kind of makes you wonder why they aren't playing her at Seeker. Her sheets show some experience and the position, and she really seems like she was built for it."

"Can't say I agree, Ludo." Runnion responded. "Look, there's no way that the Cannons are going to beat the Falcons at their own game. They're better off going small and speedy and avoiding the hits altogether."

"We'll see soon, because it looks like the players are ready to take the field!" Bagman said. "We're looking at a full house today, unfortunately, it seems like we might be in for a spot of rain." Harry thought it looked like more than a spot; heavy, black thunderclouds were rolling overhead, threatening to open up at any moment.

Harry barely listened as Bagman introduced the players; he was much more focused on keeping an eye on the Snitch as it was released. His efforts were completely in vain; it vanished into thin air the very second that it left the case that it had been trapped in. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it was simply the distance he was watching from, or if his Seeker's instincts were beginning to rust. He made a mental note to buy a practice Snitch, just in case.

By now the crowd had become a sea of orange. Harry couldn't help but be impressed by the Canoon's ability to draw a crowd after over a century's worth of losing seasons. "And the captains are shaking hands…" Bagman said. "Keepers are heading to the posts, and the Quaffle goes up in three… two… one… They're off!"

Ginny's ThunderClap served her well, getting her to the Quaffle before anybody else. She quickly passed it off to Angelina Johnson and began charging toward the goalposts. Angelina tossed it underhand to the Cannon's third Chaser, a rather handsome and muscular young man named Kevin Oakley. Oakley jetted forward to pass to Ginny, who closed the final distance to the goalposts, pulling her arm back to shoot, and then-

"Oh, Weasley's stripped by Mullen, and headed back the other way!" Bagman shouted. "An attempted block by Johnson, but that won't work, it's only Wood left to go through now, and MULLEN SCORES! That's first blood for the Falcons!" There was a defeated, resigned sigh from the crowd. The next three plays went the same way, putting the Falcons at a forty point advantage.

"It really looks like the Cannons are having trouble finding their rhythm, and that makes a second turnover for Weasley. This game certainly isn't going her way." Runnion said.

"Not in the least." Bagman agreed. "This could end up being a cautionary tale for Oliver Wood about getting some experienced players over picking your friends."

"Let's not be too hasty, here." Runnion countered. "We're ten minutes into the first game, let's give them a bit of room to breathe, don't you think?"

"Of course," Bagaman said," I just want to point out that Weasley's quite well connected. Rumored to be dating Harry Potter, and not to mention that her brother owns the largest joke shop in the country-"

"Oh, come off it." Runnion said. "Still sore that you missed your opportunity to get in with the Weasley's on the ground floor while they were looking for funding?" Harry could tell that the comment was made in jest, but he viciously agreed nonetheless.

"Not at all, but with a performance like this, people are going to wonder. I haven't said anything that isn't going to be in the Prophet's recap of the match tomorrow." Bagman said.

As much as Harry hated to admit it, Bagman had something of a point. He silently wondered if Ginny was listening to the commentary, or if she could even hear it. The rain had started, and thunder was roaring in the distance. His question was answered as she passed overhead carrying the Quaffle. She didn't make eye contact, but he could make out the fierce, blazing look that she wore whenever she was particularly determined. It was the same look that she'd worn the first time she'd kissed him, and it had never disappointed him since.

"And Weasley's going for the posts again, looking for a good shot…" Bagman said. "Say, what's she playing at?" Ginny had paused several yards in front of the Falcons' keeper, and was spinning the Quaffle on her fingertip as if it were a basketball. She drifted lazily in front of the keeper, daring him to make the first move. "Well, you can't say she's not gutsy- and that looks like a drop-"

The Quaffle seemed to fall off of her fingertip in slow motion. The Keeper made a dash for the dropped ball, but Ginny had feigned the drop; she grabbed it back and made a fresh run at the now unoccupied goal.

"My goodness!" Bagman shouted. Now who could've seen that coming?"

Ginny took a victory lap over the crowd, pumping her fist in the air before returning to play. "Weasley's taken up guarding Mullen; that'll be an interesting matchup." Runnion said. "Mullen's of course well known for his ability to blast through defenses- I DON'T BELIEVE IT!"

For a moment, it appeared that Ginny and Mullen had collided in midair. It took Harry a couple slow-motion takes with his omnioculars to to figure out exactly what had happened. Ginny had rushed Mullen, who had clearly not been expecting this tactic from somebody so small. Taking advantage of his surprise, she'd managed to get a fist under the arm he'd been using to carry the Quaffle, punching it out. She extricated herself with a quick spin, managing to grab the loose ball. She lobbed it to Angelina downfield, who managed to grab another goal.

"This crowd is definitely coming alive now!" Runnion said. "I don't think I've ever seen this stadium so excited!" This was quite right; from the cheering, Harry would have guessed that the Cannons had just won the League Cup as opposed to just getting halfway to closing the opponents lead. All the same, Harry found himself cheering harder than anybody. As Ginny took a second pass overhead, Harry noticed that the vicious wind whipping her hair around and her determined face gave her a rather possessed look.

This sudden burst of scoring lead to a strong wave of momentum for the Cannons. They quickly overtook the Falcons lead, and had reached triple digits in no time. As they fell farther behind the Falcons began to display the rough play that they were so well known for. Their beaters grew more aggressive, and the chasers began tackling while on defense. It didn't seem to matter. The Cannons chasers were simply too fast and well coordinated. At one point, one of the Falcons beaters swung his bat at Ginny while she was charging the goal; she made a full three hundred and sixty degree spin on her broom and launched her shot behind her back before the referee's whistle, getting the goal as well as a penalty shot, which she effortlessly put away."

"That's one hundred for Weasley, with Johnson having sixty, and Oakley having thirty." Shouted Bagman, who'd completely changed his tone. "What a showing from the Cannons- the Falcons camp certainly can't be happening about this!" Harry had to agree. Not that he blamed them, but the Falcons players were all looking downright furious. Their captain waved for a timeout, and they grouped into a huddle.

"Helluva game, right?" George shouted over the rain. "I always thought that Ron was mental for liking the Cannons, who could've seen this coming?"

"And we're back- Falcons are in possession." Runnion said. "Ansell passes to Sloane, to Mullen, back to Ansell, she goes for the shot, and it's blocked by Wood. We stay at one hundred and ninety to forty."

Wood tossed the ball to Ginny, who passed it to Angelina to carry it down the pitch. Lightning flashed overhead, momentarily blinding Harry. As soon as his eyes readjusted, he saw disaster approaching.

"And Weasley's got the Quaffle," Runnion shouted. "Sloane's broken off of Johnson to Double team Weasley with Mullen, but she's having none of it- Weasley does a quick roll to try- Oh dear…"

Pinned down by two large defenders, Ginny had been unable to get a clean look for a pass. Instead, she'd attempted to roll in midair, using her torque to swerve around the opposing chasers. She was almost successful; Sloan had fallen for it, continuing straight ahead. But Mullen had seen her move coming, swerving with her. She was forced to abort her tactic mid-roll, sending her crashing into Sloane. She flew off of her broom at speed, landing about twenty feet away where she lay motionless in the mud.


	12. Snitches and Stitches

The world seemed to stand still for a moment before choruses of jeers and boos erupted from around the stadium. Harry dashed to the door behind him, only acutely aware of Ron, Hermione, George, and Percy following behind. Horrible images flashed through his mind; he saw Dumbledore, lying at the foot of the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower, in almost the exact same unnatural position that he'd just seen Ginny land in. The image crossed itself with Ginny lying motionless on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets, drained of life by the Diary of Tom Riddle.

Desperate for any kind of distraction, Harry homed in on Runnion's magically amplified voice. "Weasley's down, but Rugg's just caught the Snitch for the Falcons, making this a tie game!" He boomed. "Healers are making their way to examine Weasley, but it looks like Mullen's not happy with the ref- a foul immediately after the catch would get the Cannons a Penalty throw, making this a likely win for them."

It seemed insane to Harry that anybody could be be concerned with Quidditch right now, but it appeared that Mullen's mind was still very much on the match. "It sounds like Mullen is trying to argue that the foul occurred before the catch, meaning that the catch would be voided, and play would be resumed." Runnion said. "He's trying to have the call overturned, forcing the Cannons to retake the pitch without their leading scorer." Harry's blood boiled as he listened, and it seemed that he wasn't alone. It had been some time since the Cannons fans had seen such an exciting game, and this show of disrespect was riling them up even further. He doubled his pace as the rumbling from the stands overhead increased. He was in the locker room now- almost there.

"Everybody, please remain seated!" Bagman shouted, a rare note of panic in his voice. "The officials are sorting this out, please stay calm!"

Harry knew even before he'd exited onto the pitch that Bagman's pleading was in vain. The crowd was storming the pitch: those in lower seats had already taken to the field. Harry shoved his way through the crowd of orange, occasionally dotted by the black of a Falcons player or fan. Harry liberally launched stunning spells as he felt necessary. He wasn't sure if his status as an auror validated or condemned this display of force, but he didn't care. All that was important was that he find where Ginny had fallen. Bagman and Runnion were both completely drowned out by the riot at this point.

As he drew up on the Cannons goalposts, he frantically searched the ground. The Healers that were supposed to have been tending to Ginny were nowhere to be seen. Finally, he caught sight of red hair sprawled in the mud. She was facedown, still completely still. Oliver Wood, who'd been closest to her at the time of the fall, had thrown himself over her, using his burly frame to protect her from the stampeding rioters.

 _"Protego!"_ Harry shouted, pointing his wand in their direction. All of the rioters within five feet of them were thrown back by the shield charm, but none of them seemed to care. They stood right back up and resumed as if nothing had happened. Fortunately, the violence was mostly physical, but Harry doubted that it would be long before it escalated to curses and duels.

"Ginny!" Harry shouted. "Ginny, can you hear me?"

"She's breathing, but she needs to get to the Healer's Room." Wood said, breathless from being trampled in Ginny's stead. "I reckon the Healers can't get through the crowd. He righted himself, and bent down to pick Ginny up off the ground. Harry could see that her face was bloody with countless scrapes. "My wand's back in the locker room. You clear space, I'll take care of her."

Harry nodded quickly, and got to work casting shield charms to gouge a path through the crowd. With Hermione and the Weasley's helping, it was mercifully quick work. A moment later, they were back at the entrance way that led to the locker room. Thankfully, the crowd was focused on the pitch, and hadn't entered the stadium's interior.

"Hey, open up!" Wood shouted at a door along the side of the corridor. A young witch wearing lime-green healer's robes quickly threw the door open to let them in. The room was quite small, almost bare of furnishings except for a large fireplace and an examination table. The young woman was the only occupant of the room.

"Thank goodness!" She gasped. "The rest of the team is out there looking, but we were starting to lost hope. Put her down here." She gestured at the padded table in the corner of the tiny room. Wood did as instructed, and the healer began examining Ginny, occasionally scribbling notes on her clipboard. It seemed to take forever, but finally she spoke. Harry instantly noted her grim tone.

"There's not much I can do for her here." She said. "I can do the surface wounds, but we'll need to get a better look for broken bones, but she's most likely got a pretty severe concussion. I'll have her moved to St. Mungo's for a more thorough examination." Without waiting for an answer, she took a small jar from the mantle of the fireplace, withdrawing a handful of powder and throwing it into the flames. They turned a brilliant shade of green, and roared to twice their natural height. The healer conjured a stretcher and levitated Ginny's unconscious body onto it. "It's a direct line." She explained, seeing the wary look on Harry's face and gesturing at the fire. "Don't worry, she'll be safe going through. You can all come along, but we've got to hurry." Without another word, she stepped into the fireplace, levitating Ginny in front of her.

Harry started to follow, but was stopped by Wood's hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to stay here, make sure everyone else is alright and try to help get this under control." Wood said. " Don't worry, Healer Vermetti is great. She'll have Ginny up and running in no time. Just keep me in the loop, alright?"

"Yeah, will do." Harry said. "Thanks, Oliver."

When Harry stepped into the fireplace, he'd expected the normal spinning sensation that came with traveling via floo powder. However, he was somewhat surprised to simply step out in a completely different room, his stride unbroken. He supposed this made sense. An injured witch or wizard wouldn't be up to the strain of whirling around every fireplace in the country on their way to the hospital, so a direct line would have to circumvent that.

As he stepped out the fireplace on the other side, he found himself in an unfamiliar section of St. Mungo's hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The fireplace that he'd just stepped out of was rather oddly situated at the end of a corridor, leading Harry to believe that transportation was its sole purpose. It was large enough that three fully grown men could stand with room to spare. Just over the mouth of the fireplace was a large brass plaque that read _'Ground Floor- Artifact Damage, Carys Green Ward.'_ Like the rest of the hospital, this wing was decorated with portraits of famous healers.

Harry hastened his stride to catch up with the stretcher. Vermetti seemed to know where she was going. She stopped at a door about halfway down the corridor, opening it with her free hand. It was slightly larger than the room that they'd been in before, containing two beds, several enormous cabinets, and a large cauldron. Vermetti placed the stretcher on the bed farther from the door. As it touched the surface, the stretcher seemed to melt away into nothing, gently lowering Ginny onto the bed. She waved her wand, and Ginny's Quidditch robes vanished, instantly replaced by a soft, clean set of mint green robes.

Harry felt rather useless as Vermetti darted around Ginny's bed, occasionally lightly placing her wand over various parts of Ginny's body, usually followed by a bout of muttering and more furious scribbling on her clipboard. "Hmm." She mumbled under her breath. Deciding that she'd gathered all the data she could, she set about gathering potion ingredients from the cabinet. Her chopping was quick and efficient, and in no time she had her potion simmering away. While she waiting for the mixture, she retrieved a small bottle that Harry recognized as essence of Dittany. She uncorked the bottle and poured it with practiced dexterity; the numerous gashes that covered Ginny's face and arms began to fade away into nothing.

Apparently satisfied, Vermetti replaced the bottle in the cabinet and returned to her potion. Conjuring a glass with her wand, she reached down to scoop out a serving. The liquid was an ugly shade of green; Harry was quietly glad that Ginny wouldn't have to be conscious to taste it. Slightly lifting Ginny's head, Vermetti tipped the glass onto her lips. As the potion passed down Ginny's throat, Harry thought he saw her face relax.

"I've done what I can for now." Healer Vermetti said, wiping her brow. "That should mend her bones and ease the pain. We'll know more when she wakes up, but I don't foresee any lasting problems. There could be a bit of recovery time though- it all depends on what happened with her head when she landed. She's definitely lucky that it was raining, though. This could have been a lot messier if the ground hadn't been soft. I'll be back to check in in two hours."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Vermetti left the room. They all had been watching, and they had all seen her land headfirst. It was a painful five minutes before anybody spoke. "I'd… I'd better go send an owl to Mother and Father…" Percy said weakly.

"Nah, I'll do it." George said firmly, getting up. He was already out the door before anybody had a chance to argue. Harry couldn't blame him. The stifling hush was unbearable. After fifteen minutes, he could stand it no longer. He mumbled a vague excuse about getting some air and followed George out the door. He didn't have any particular destination in mind, he just couldn't take another second of staring at Ginny's lifeless body.

Harry wandered the corridors, taking the less populated path wherever he could. He ended up in the visitor's center; thinking that maybe bringing back some tea for everybody might lighten the oppressive mood a bit. To his surprise, the visitor's tearoom had only one occupant; George. He sat in the corner of the room, his head lowered and a largely untouched cup of tea in his hand. Harry saw moisture falling from his face to the carpet below.

"You alright, mate?" Harry said, not sure what else to say.

"Guess so." George said in a hollow voice.

"She's going to be fine." Harry said, trying his best to sound more confident than he felt. "You know Ginny, she's tougher than that."

"Sirius was tough." George said unexpectedly. Harry didn't know how to respond to this. "And Fred was tough." Harry could see fresh tears welling up in George's eyes. He didn't sob, but just stared ahead blankly. "Hell, Harry. How'd you deal with this for so long? Your parents and Sirius, I mean? Every once in a while, I feel likest's all better and I can just get on with my life. But it always comes back. I just don't know what I'd do if… If Ginny…"

"Yeah." Harry said, not wanting to hear what George was saying as much as George didn't want to say it. Harry thought over George's statement for a moment before speaking. It was a topic he'd done a good deal of ruminating on, but he'd never really expected to have to vocalize on. "I guess you don't really get used to it." He said finally. "But that's important, you know? You make sure that you don't forget them, and you make sure that you appreciate people while they're here."

"I guess so." George said. An odd, humorless sort of smile was forming on his face. "You know, I've done a lot of thinking over the last year, and I'm pretty sure that I know what Fred'd say if I could talk to him one more time."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Harry asked.

"He'd say _'This is why there's two of us, George. Mum and Dad were smart to have a backup."_ The smile fell from his face. "It doesn't really help, though, in the end."

By the time they'd returned to Ginny's room, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had arrived. Mrs. Weasley had busied herself fretting over Ginny, straightening her hair and making sure that she was comfortably tucked in. Mr. Weasley just sat stock still, helplessly watching his wife and daughter.

When Healer Vermetti returned, she brought a flask of a different potion with her. She looked over Ginny again, opening her eyelids and checking her bone fractures.

"She's looking better." She said simply. "Now she just needs rest. I'll take care of her tonight and send an owl if there's any change; you can come back to visit tomorrow. But, again, she's improving fast."

A relieved sigh ran around the room at this good news. Still, everybody was far too exhausted to talk much as they filed out of the room. Harry wasn't particularly looking forward to returning home; the empty house would only serve as a reminder. At least here he could keep an eye on her. As they walked back towards the fireplace that they'd come from, Harry had a thought.

"Ah, damn. I think I've left my wand back there." He said to Ron and Hermione. "I've got to go back and get it, I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

Harry had a feeling that Hermione knew that he wasn't being truthful as they said their goodbyes, but she didn't say anything. He wasn't entirely sure why he was lying to them, but he knew that he needed to stay at St. Mungo's.

As he reentered Ginny's room, Healer Vermetti was administering the second potion. She frowned slightly as she addressed him. "Sorry, did you need something?" She asked.

"Yes, actually." Harry began. _Here goes nothing…_ He thought to himself. He reached into the inside pocket of his robes, extracting his badge to show her. "I'm an auror with the Ministry of Magic." He said, vaguely wondering if he could have his badge taken for such flagrant abuse of it. "I need to stay with her tonight. For… For security." He finished lamely.

This time, he was sure that he'd been caught lying. He'd really have to work on that at some point. For a second, he thought she was going to call security on him, but her face softened before she spoke again. "Very well. I'll be in my office two doors to the left, and I'll be checking in every few hours or so." She conjured up a pitcher of ice water on Ginny's bedside table and closed the shades, darkening the room before she left.

Harry thought for a moment about lying down on the other bed and trying to get some sleep, but he knew that it would be futile. Instead, he pulled up a chair in between the two beds and prepared himself for a long night.

Harry didn't notice himself drifting off to sleep that night, but his dreams were not pleasant. The day had left him with all manner of awful thoughts to dwell on, and all of them swirled around his head in an abstract fog, highlighted by the cold cruel laugh of Lord Voldemort.

Harry was suddenly awakened by a sharp, cold pain in his forehead. He started, reflexively drawing his wand. He put his hand to his forehead, feeling cold moisture. _"Lumos."_ He whispered, lighting to tip of his wand so he could see. On the floor all around him, he found a several partially melted ice cubes. Puzzled, he picked one up to examine it.

"Oi, about time." A voice said from across the room. "I thought I was going to have to chuck the whole pitcher at you to wake you up." Ginny was looking bruised and pale, but finally conscious. "Did we win?"

"Ginny, you're awake!" Harry could hardly dare to believe it. Hot relief flooded through his entire body.

"Yeah, I suppose I am." She said. "Good observation. Anyway, did we win?"

"No clue." Harry said. "I've been here all day, haven't I?" The outcome of the match had been the further thing from his mind- he should have know that Ginny would feel differently. He decided to omit the details about the Falcons trying to have their own Snitch catch overwritten to squeeze out a win; that was definitely the kind of stress she didn't need at the moment.

"Useless." She sulked, sinking even lower into her bed.

"You were great, though." He said, trying to cheer her up. "Those feints were incredible. You know, until the last one. How do you feel?"

"Honestly? Like I got hit by the Knight Bus." She winced as she tried to push herself up to a sitting position with her forearms. She couldn't muster the strength, and once again fell back onto her pillows with a defeated sigh. Harry stood up to help her. She grunted in discomfort as he lifted her upright.

"I can get the Healer if you want." He offered. "She can give you something for the pain."

"Harry…" She said in a choked voice. He was shocked to see that there were tears forming in her eyes. He instantly knew that something was terribly wrong, as he could count on one hand the times that he'd seen her cry. "I can't feel my legs, Harry."


	13. Chapter 13

"Do you feel anything at all?" Healer Vermetti was at the end of Ginny's bed, having been quickly retrieved by Harry. She'd pulled back the covers to examine Ginny's legs, and was currently prodding and stretching them, trying to provoke any kind of response.

"No." Ginny's panic had subsided, replaced by cold shock. She sat in her bed locked in her own thoughts, only responding when directly spoken to. Harry couldn't quite figure out what to do with himself; he wanted to pace the room to relieve some of his stress, but felt that such a flagrant and pointless display of his ability walk may not be tactful in his given circumstances. This left him to awkwardly sit by while Healer Vermetti examined Ginny.

"Anything here?" Vermetti tried again.

"No." Ginny said simply. Harry desperately wanted to say something, but knew that any condolences or pity that he could offer would only make the situation worse.

"Hmm…" Vermetti murmured under her breath, furrowing her brow in thought. "Let's try something else. Let me know if anything happens here." She lightly pressed her wand into the sole of Ginny's bare foot, inaudibly muttering an incantation.

Ginny's eyes shot open. "I think I felt that."

Vermetti scribbled something on her clipboard, carefully keeping her face unreadable. "Was it hot or cold?"

"I'm not sure." Ginny said. "Could you do it again?" Vermetti complied, pressing her wand into the same spot. "Cold, I think." Ginny answered after a moment of thought.

Vermetti scrawled another note before speaking. "Very good, let's give it another go." She said. "Same thing, just tell me if it's hot or cold." They did this several times before Vermetti seemed to decide that she had enough info.

"Well?" Ginny asked anxiously, her hope having been rekindled by the limited sensation.

Vermetti hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I don't want to give you false hope." She began slowly. "But I think that we may be able to reverse, or at the very least mitigate the damage."

Harry's heart soared. He supposed that this must be what she had meant about false hope, but he was so desperate for any sort of good news that he didn't care. He could see that Ginny was feeling the same way. Her despondent gaze was gone, replaced by a vicious and focused stare.

"I'm going to take tonight to come up with a potion cocktail for your to take tomorrow."Vermetti continued. "After that and a bit more bedrest, you should be able to do most of your treatment and rehab as an outpatient."

"And how long is all of this going to take?" Ginny asked hastily. "I mean, how long until I can walk and stuff?"

"Well, I have to stress that there aren't any guarantees here." Vermetti said, "But if all goes well, then we can hope for a full recovery as soon as January."

"January…" Ginny said, some of the excitement fading from her voice. "That's almost four months… Practically the entire season…" Harry was a bit more surprised than he should have been that she was already thinking about Quidditch.

"I'm sorry," Vermetti said, "but this is going to be an uphill battle, and it's best not to rush it. The potions that you'll need to be taking can be dangerous in high dosages, so we don't have much choice. But you should start seeing improvements as soon as we start treatment. While it's unlikely that you'll be cleared to return to play until December, a typical timeline for this kind of injury will have you regaining feeling and maybe some limited movement as soon as two months out."

Harry looked at Ginny to see how she'd take this news. Her face was stoney, but determined. "Thanks." She said firmly. "Do you think I could borrow some parchment? I have a few letters I want to write."

"Of course, I'll go get it for you." Vermetti smiled reassuringly as she stepped outside. She returned a moment later with several scrolls of parchment and a pristine white quill. "I'll be in my office if you have any other questions." She departed, leaving Harry alone with Ginny. It was a moment before Harry spoke.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

She didn't answer immediately, giving him a strange look. "I… I don't know. I mean, I think so. No, I am. At least, I will be." She said. It sounded to Harry as if she was trying to convince herself as much as him. "I mean, three months is nothing compared to… Well, when I first felt it, I thought…" She couldn't seem to finish a sentence, apparently unable to bring herself back to the dark headspace she'd occupied only moments ago. Harry opened his mouth to tell her that she didn't have to go on, but she brushed him aside. "I thought that I'd never fly again. Or walk. I don't know what I would've done. Or what I'll do if this doesn't work."

"You'd be fine. No, I mean it" Harry said, seeing her disbelieving look. "You're a great Quidditch player, but that's not everything. There're more important things, you know?" Harry couldn't help but feel a bit foolish putting himself on the line, but he knew that she needed any moral boost that he could provide. "You're brave and loyal, and that's all that matters to me. You're still the Ginny that stuck with me in the Department of Mysteries, and you're still the Ginny that risked her life to steal the Sword of Gryffindor to help beat Voldemort. That's what matters, and I know that you would've done it, legs or no- and that you'd do it all again. So you'd be fine." He said as if this made it final.

Harry was immensely relieved to finally see a genuine smile on her face. She let out an impressed whistle. "Damn, Harry. You know, you're actually really smooth just as long as you're not trying to be. I'll tell you, if I wasn't paralyzed from the waist down right now…" Harry choked on the water that he'd been drinking, splattering it all over himself and disqualifying her point. "Alright, well, sometimes you are anyway. Would you mind passing me that parchment? I want to write a letter to Mum."

"I can go get everybody now if you want." Harry offered. "Just use the fireplace to bring them straight here?"

"No, that's alright." Ginny said. "I think I'd rather take some time to process all of this, you know? I'll talk to them tomorrow, I just need some time alone."

Harry's heart dropped a bit. He immediately chastised himself; she'd had a long day, and he really shouldn't be upset with her for wanting some solitude. "Erm, alright then. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Pardon?" She said, slanting an eyebrow. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Well, you just said you wanted some time alone, didn't you?" He asked. He had a nasty suspicion that this was going to be one of those 'girl things' that he still sometimes had to have Hermione explain to him afterward.

She let out an exasperated sigh, all but confirming his suspicions. "That doesn't mean that I couldn't use some company, you know."

"Er… Doesn't it?" Harry asked.

"Honestly…" She shook her head slightly, slightly wincing in pain as she did so. "I take back everything I said, you're the least smooth person this side of Kreacher. Just stay here, alright?"

"Deal," he grinned. He slid himself into the next into the spare bed, fully intending to stay awake and talk once she'd finished writing her letter. However, he was lulled into a stupor by the delicate scratching of her quill, and had fallen asleep in minutes flat.

Harry stayed at St. Mungo's for nearly the entirety of the next day, returning home only very briefly in the early morning to bathe. Mrs. Weasley's reaction was every bit as emotional as they could've anticipated, although she mercifully restrained herself from grabbing Ginny in one of her legendary bear-hugs. Mr. Weasley, on the other hand, was slightly more cheerful than normal, simply happy that Ginny was awake again.

Ron and Hermione showed up not long after the Weasley parents, bringing George and Luna in tow. Luna had risen to the occasion and brought with her a home-made salve to prevent restful sleep and healing; Harry was sure that he could make out the smells of bubotober pus and stinksap in the thick, mud like mixture. He made a mental note to find a safe way to dispose of the constantly boiling mixture at a later time.

Before long, the entire Chudley Cannons had arrived to give their well wishes. Oliver Wood had given a touching, if not entirely sincere speech about how her proper recovery was the most important thing, and that the team could do without her for the time being. Harry knew how hard it was for Wood to pretend not to care about Quidditch and appreciated his trying, even if it was something of a poor job.

Ginny had insisted on a full play-by-play of everything that happened after she went down, although Harry suspected that it pained her to hear about it more than she let on.

"We got them back good for you, Ginny." Angelina said fiercely. "They tried to appeal the catch, thinking that without you there to thrash them they'd be able to pull out a win instead of the tie that they were going to get. Anyway, they got what they wanted, but by the time we got back to playing, most of their team had been suspended for taking part in the riot on the pitch. Guess they just couldn't help themselves. And especially after all that, we wanted it more. Final score was five-hundred and seventy to fifty."

"And you should hear the things they're saying about you." Said Katie Bell, another former Gryffindor chaser, and the reserve who'd taken Ginny's place the previous day. "That was an amazing upset, people are actually saying that we have a chance at a championship run."

Ginny shifted uncomfortably but maintained her forced smile. She hadn't told them just yet that she wouldn't be playing for several months; she hadn't been able to find the strength to crush their spirits after such a dominant win. For the time being, she'd simply told Wood to keep playing Katie.

That evening, after the Cannons had left (George going along with them, talking animatedly to Angelina Johnson), Healer Vermetti returned with the potion that she'd promised. It wasn't as foul-looking as the one from the previous night. It resembled sparkling water, gently bubbling perpetually. It looked rather refreshing to Harry, although judging by Ginny's face as she gulped it down, it had something of a kick to it. Once she'd finished, she weakly placed the glass on her night table and clutched her stomach in pain.

"Yes, it'll do that." Vermetti said. "I'm sorry to surprise you with it, but I've found that the warning only makes it harder to drink. Remember the end goal, though. It'll pass in a moment." Sure enough, after a moment of writhing, Ginny settled, although she looked a bit paler than before. "We'll have you come back bi-weekly for a dose. You'll have to stay overnight for observation on those days, I'm afraid."

Ginny nodded, apparently afraid that if she opened her mouth to speak, she'd vomit and have to take another dose.

"Now, I think it's best that you get some rest." Vermetti said firmly. "The more sleep you can get tonight, the more effective that potion'll be."

Harry was tempted to stay the night again, but he knew that Ginny would be better off if he left. Besides, he had work the next day to think about, and the Dolohov case was heating up quickly. Regretfully, he said his goodbyes and promised to return the next day before leaving with Hermione, Luna, and the remaining Weasleys.


	14. The Werewolf in the Pantry

Harry awoke from a restless, lonely sleep the next day to find the piled up mail that he'd ignored from the night before. He glazed over the previous day's paper, tentatively unfolding the sports section. Sure enough, the Cannon's biggest win in a century, combined with their newly minted star chaser's grievous injury headlined the section. The article took a favorable enough tone to the team's play, but he took some issue with the rather graphic depiction of Ginny's injury, complete with a moving photograph. Only days before, he'd hoped that he'd be able to take the page and have it framed. Instead, he unceremoniously tossed it into the fire with his floo powder before setting off for the Ministry building.

"Morning." He said to Ron as he sat down at his desk, still rubbing his eyes. On top of everything else that he had on his mind, Camilla had very loudly expressed her displeasure at being left alone for nearly two days by howling loudly whenever Harry wasn't patting her. This, of course, made sleeping something of a challenge, eventually forcing Harry to cast a muffling charm on his pillows and jam his head between them for the night. This in turn caused him to sleep through his alarm, resulting in a late start to his day and something of a foul mood.

"Morning." Ron answered. "You look like hell." Harry only grunted in response. "I've started looking into Greyback." Ron continued. "There's a lot out there. I mean _a lot_. Look at all of this." He gestured at the stacks of parchment that covered his desk.

"So why haven't we got him yet?" Harry asked irritably. Fortunately, Harry and Ron knew each other well enough to overlook a rude made comment after a long night, as both had done on many an occasion.

"Well, it's a really big picture." Ron said. "Werewolf activity is usually pretty easy to follow, because- well, you've met one. They're not exactly subtle. They keep to themselves, but we tend to get the general picture. And Greyback's something of a folk hero to a lot of them, so he's at the center of pretty much everything they do."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine. The idea of anybody looking up to murderous scum like Fenrir Greyback was positively nauseating. This was to say nothing of the fact that Greyback was largely personally responsible for the spread of the Werewolf's Curse. Harry had heard stories of Greyback's tactics of biting and kidnapping young children, raising them as members of his pack.

"Alright, any idea where to start?" Harry asked.

"Well, not yet." Ron said. "I'm still reading through this, and some of it's pretty old. It looks like Greyback's mostly been quiet since You-Know-Who died. Off licking his wounds, I suspect. Like you'd think, there's been a massive drop in werewolf attacks since he disappeared. The really surprising bit is that there are even less now than before than before he came back- lowest it's been in twenty-seven years, in fact."

"Well, we know that he's up to something." Harry said, grabbing a stack of parchment for himself. "He might be purposely avoiding drawing attention to himself. Gilchrist said something about kidnapping an apothecary and his daughter, do we know anything about that?"

Ron shook his head. "Nah. I put out the word around the office Friday night, but nobody's reported anything yet. My guess is they've scared the family into keeping quiet."

Harry grunted, and set to digging through the dense pile of information before him. It was slow reading on any manner of subjects, ranging from lists of Greyback's known victims to the locations of known werewolf colonies. It took him several hours of reading before he finally found something useful.

"Hey, look at this." He motioned Ron over.

"Missing werewolves?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "What of it?"

"You don't think that has anything to do with Greyback?" Harry asked. "He could be kidnapping them, or recruiting."

"I mean maybe…" Ron looked skeptical. "But werewolves go missing all the time. It's actually kind of the norm. You know how it is for them. It's almost impossible to hold a job, and everybody's scared of them. So they just go underground somewhere else."

"Alright, so we just have to track down one of the packs that they're all joining." Harry said. "Surely they'd have some idea where Greyback is? Do we know where to find them?"

Ron looked shocked at the suggestion. "Find them?" He asked as though he was doubting his ears." Harry, you're talking about walking into a werewolf den and asking them to roll over on Fenrir Greyback. They don't like us, Harry. Not to sound too Hermione-ish, but we've kind of oppressed them for centuries. Not without reason, but still, they just don't like us. It'd be like a pair of Death Eaters walking in here demanding to arrest you. They don't recognize Ministry Authority, and we leave them alone as long as they don't get too out of control. It's a delicate system, and I don't think that the higher-ups would be too happy with us messing with it."

"Alright, alright, I get it." Harry said. "But I still think that we have to take a look at this. Maybe get a word with a family member, see if Greyback's been approaching them."

Ron still seemed hesitant, but relented when it became apparent that they had few other concrete leads. They settled on the most recent report, a Joseph Robinson who'd been reported missing by his wife several weeks ago. He scrawled down the family's address on a scrap of parchment. "I'll meet you there in about twenty minutes, I just need to stop at home first.

As he'd promised to visit Ginny immediately after work and he was already late, he'd planned to write her a quick letter explaining that he'd be there a bit later. However, he quickly discovered that this would not be necessary as he went to retrieve his favorite quill from his study on the second floor. As he passed his bedroom door, he was surprised to see it ajar; he was sure that he'd closed it, as he didn't at all trust Camilla not to leave hair all over his pillows. Investigating closer, he was surprised to see Ginny lying in bed, looking tired but oddly triumphant.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry asked. "You're supposed to be at the hospital!"

"Hello, Harry." She said, cheerily ignoring him. "Nice to see you too." She had the covers pulled up to her chest, and was patting Camilla who was purring loudly. Harry couldn't help but notice that Ginny had let the cat settle herself on his pillow, but decided to save the issue for another time.

"No, I mean it." He said. "This is important, you should be resting."

"But I _am_ resting." Ginny said. "I won't be taking another does of medicine for two weeks, so there's no reason that I can't take my bedrest here. I simply suggested as much, and they agreed to let me come home."

This seemed to easy to be true, so Harry pressed a bit further. "I see. They let you come home? Because Healer Vermetti seemed pretty clear on the plan being to have you staying there for a few weeks."

"Fine, it was more like they legally couldn't stop me from leaving." She shrugged. "But what's the difference? Bedrest is bedrest, right?"

Harry wasn't sure what to say. For a moment, he wanted to tell her that this was his house and that she'd better start listening to her healers if she wanted to stay here at all, but fortunately realized that this would be a bad approach.

Apparently sensing his trepidation, she spoke before he could come up with anything to say. "I'm an adult, Harry." She said, with just a hint of ice in her voice. "And I can make my own decisions. The healers weren't exactly chuffed about me leaving, but they said that I'll be okay, as long as I'm resting."

Harry let loose an exasperated sigh. Deep down, he was actually quite pleased that he wouldn't be living completely alone for the next few weeks, but he knew that he had to put up at least a token resistance. "Kreacher!" He said to thin air. The House Elf instantly appeared at Harry's side, standing at attention.

"Yes, Master Harry?" Kreacher croaked. "You require my service?"

"Kreacher, I need you to take care of Ginny for the next few days." Harry said. "She's not to leave the bed, so if she needs anything, you get it for her, alright? You make sure that she doesn't leave that bed."

Kreacher nodded enthusiastically. "I'll see that it is done, Master Harry. Mistress Ginny will want for nothing under my care!" Ginny didn't seem too keen on this, but she'd have to deal with it for now. Harry said his goodbyes, and set off to meet Ron at the Robinson household.

When he arrived at the address, he found himself standing at the end of a desolate cul de sac. There was only one house that looked remotely suitable for occupation, and even that one appeared to be on it's last legs. Nearly all of the paint had stripped from the walls, and the roof appeared to be on the verge of caving in. Harry strode over to the center of the cul de sac where Ron was already waiting for him.

"Well, let's get this done." Harry said, starting across the dirt lawn. He knocked on the door, and waited for a moment. After a full minute of silence, he tried again.

"Maybe nobody's home." Ron suggested, a hopeful note in his voice. Still determined, Harry knocked one more time, a bit more forcefully. Finally, the door opened, revealing a small boy of no older than four or five. Harry didn't know what to make of this. There was nothing in the files that he'd read on the Robinsons about a child. The boy was as unkempt as any part of the house- his clothes were torn, and he bore all manner of scratches and scars on his face and arms. Upon seeing this, Harry was immediately concerned for the boy.

"Hello." He said in his friendliest voice. The boy didn't seem to be won over, but Harry supposed he had to try. "We're from the Ministry of Magic. Do you live here?"

The little boy looked at Harry as though sizing him up before answering. "Yes."

Realizing that he was getting nowhere, Harry decided that it was time to change tactics. "Are your parents available? Could we please speak to them?"

"Not home." The boy said simply, beginning to close the door in their faces. Harry stuck his hand out to stop it. It was harder than he would have thought- the boy was surprisingly strong.

"Hey, hold on just a second!" Harry said. "We just have a couple of questions, do you know when they'll be back?"

The boy waited again before answering. "No. Goodbye." He again tried to close the door, and Harry knew that he'd have to put all of his cards on the table.

"This is Joseph Robinson's house, right?" Harry said. "Are you his son?" Finally the boy registered a reaction, although he masked it well enough that Harry couldn't quite tell what it was. He clearly didn't want to answer, but his silence was enough to confirm Harry's suspicions. "It's alright, we're here to help find him." Harry said, trying to sound comforting.

"Mum and Dad said not to talk about it." The little boy said. Harry could tell that despite his orders, he very much did want to talk about it.

At that very moment, there was a flash of green light from inside the house. For one awful moment Harry thought that somebody had launched a Killing Curse before he recognized the distinctive sound of floo powder flames.

"Alfred, I'm home!" A woman's voice called from within the house. "Alfred? Alfred!" A tall, spindly witch appeared behind the little boy, whom Harry gathered must be Alfred, and hastily shuffled him behind her back. She appeared to be only a few years older than Harry and Ron, but her face was somewhat lined and there were strands of grey in her dark hair. "Who are you?" She asked, her eyes narrowing as they glanced quickly between Harry and Ron. Before either of them could answer, she'd launched more questions. "What are you doing here? How dare you-"

"We're aurors from the Ministry." Harry said loudly, cutting her off. "My name is Harry Potter, and this is Ron Weasley." He and Ron produced their badges. Harry allowed a moment for the woman's eyes to perform the familiar sweep from his badge to his forehead before he continued. "Are you Mrs. Beatrice Robinson?"

Much like the boy who now peered out from behind her waist, she took her time before answering. "Yes." She finally said, with some reluctance.

"We just have a few questions about your husband, ma'am." Harry said. "Is it alright if we come in?"

Harry already knew that she definitely did not want them to come in, but he was banking on her not wanting to speak so candidly in front of her son. "Oh, alright then." She said, stepping aside to let them in. The house's interior was a bit better-kept than one would have guessed from the outside, but still nowhere near what Harry would have called comfortable. It was tidy enough, but signs of neglect showed through in the peeling wallpaper and sagging furniture.

"Go upstairs and play for a bit longer." Beatrice said to Alfred, momentarily showing a kindness in her voice that hadn't been there before. "Mum'll be along soon." She ushered the boy away as she showed Harry and Ron to a couch, where they sat side by side, taking a large armchair to herself. "Well, what is it?" She asked harshly.

This time it was Harry who paused before answering. He hadn't expected this kind of hostility. "Like I said, we're here investing the disappearance of your husband." He said. "You do want him found, don't you?"

"Well, of course!" She sputtered. "I just don't need strangers showing up, harassing my son!"

The more Harry thought about everything he'd just seen in combination, the more things made sense. Finally, he remembered the young boy's scars and he had the final piece. "Fair enough." Harry said reasonably. "You're right, we should have called in advance- should we need anything from you in the future we'll send an owl before visiting. But right now, I want to make it clear that you aren't in trouble." Ron scribbled down notes next to Harry, carefully transcribing every word.

"Well I should think not!" Beatrice said. "What on Earth should I be in trouble for?"

"Your husband is a werewolf." Harry said quietly, trying his best to keep any hint of accusation out of his voice. The instantaneous flash of rage on her face showed that he hadn't been successful.

"Oh, figured it all out have you?" She said spitefully. "All of you great detectives must have put your heads together real good to come up with that! Of course he's a werewolf, you stupid prats. He complied with your stupid registrations and lists, and even then when he goes missing, all you can do is-"

Harry held up a hand to stop her. "I don't need registrations to know a werewolf when I see one. I've known werewolves, and I can recognize the signs. I've seen the self inflicted scars of a werewolf who can't hunt. Without anything else to attack, they bite and scratch themselves." Ron had stopped writing, and was looking quickly between Harry and Beatrice. "Your son has those scars." Harry continued. "Did your husband bite him?"

"N-no!" The woman stammered. "He would never, it's just…" She seemed to have run out of words, but Harry didn't need them.

"My Godson- his father was a werewolf." Harry said. "He was mortified at first when he found out he was going to be a father- he didn't know what kind of life he'd be giving his son, or if his condition would be passed. Teddy didn't end up being a werewolf- but I'm guessing that Alfred wasn't so lucky." Harry heard Beatrice choke back a sob. Suddenly, she didn't look so fierce, and instead looked exhausted and miserable. When she remained otherwise silent, he continued. "The Ministry only has one recorded werewolf looking here."

"You can't take him." Suddenly, all of the tired witch's formidability had returned. "I won't let you." She hissed, drawing her wand.

Harry held out his hands as a sign of peace, showing that his wand was still tucked away. Fortunately, Beatrice was so focused on him that she didn't notice Ron drawing his own wand. "I don't plan on taking him, or even turning you in." Harry said. "Like I said, you aren't in trouble. We just want to help."

"I don't think you can." She was no longer looking at Harry, but somewhere over his shoulder. Her wand had drooped to her side. "I shouldn't have reported him missing, and I'm sorry for wasting your time, but there's really nothing that you can do."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, taken aback by this strange remark.

"He doesn't want to be found." She said slowly, as though each word stung her deeply. "I didn't want to believe it at first, but I think that I always knew. From when Alfred first turned…" She stopped speaking and finally looked at Harry, deciding if he was trustworthy. "Joseph was bitten not long after we married. I didn't care, I loved him just the same. And when Alfred was born…" She closed her eyes, drawing up her strength to continue. "We thought he was fine at first. He didn't transform until he was three months old. Even as a wolf he was so small… Just for that first time, he was harmless."

She stood up, wordlessly indicating Harry to follow. He and Ron followed her into the kitchen, where she stopped in front of a large pantry door. With unsteady fingers, she unlatched the door and opened it.

Harry held back a horrified gasp. Inside the pantry was an enormous steel cage, held shut by a heavy, rusted padlock. The thick bars were heavily scratched, and Harry could even make out a few bite marks in the metal. "This is where Joseph and Alfred would take their transformations." Beatrice said. "We couldn't afford to have Wolfsbane Potion made, so we built this for Joseph to use once a month. Alfred joined him as he grew bigger and stronger. It might have been my imagination, but it didn't seem as bad when they were together. They even curled up and slept a few nights." She let out a weary sigh. The tears were gone, leaving her expression once again vacant and tired. "I always knew that he'd leave, though. I'd fooled myself into thinking that things were okay, but they haven't been okay in years. He hadn't been able to hold a job, so I was working for all of us. I knew it was eating away at him, but we never talked about it. He didn't let Alfred see, but I noticed. He hated himself for what he'd done."

Harry could see the toll that being a single working mother of a young werewolf was taking on her, and felt a rush of pity for the three of them. He made a vow that even if he couldn't track down Joseph, he'd at least find a way to help them out, even if it meant paying to have Wolfsbane Potion made for Alfred out of his own pocket.

"So, you can't bring him back." Beatrice said. "Even if you find him, he chose to leave, and there's nothing that can be done to make him come home. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but don't expect it to help."

Harry felt rather defeated by the story, but knew that there could be bigger things on the line. He had a sort of gut feeling that this line of investigation could lead to Greyback, and he still hoped that he could persuade Joseph to return home. Stiffening his resolve, he started on the questions he'd prepared in advance. "Did your husband have any strange visitors in the weeks before he disappeared? Or any letters that seemed stuck out to you?"

Beatrice shook her head. "I don't know. Like I said, we didn't talk much. I've been working overnight until late afternoon, and when I was home, he never wanted to say anything."

"Was that unusual for him?" Harry asked. He was very uncomfortable prying into their private affairs, but he reminded himself again what was at stake.

"I suppose." Beatrice said. "He was always quiet, but something changed in him. He was always the same with Alfred… It was me that he couldn't stand to be around."

Feeling that he was getting little out of this and that his heart couldn't take much more, Harry relented. Just as he was about to excuse himself, he finally picked up on something that had been nagging at the back of his mind nearly since he'd arrived. "Do you mind if I speak to Alfred for a moment?" Beatrice's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I just have a few questions, I promise. Then we'll be out of your hair."

Very reluctantly, she nodded. Harry showed himself upstairs. Alfred's room was easy to find; the boy had left the door ajar, and was peering out through the crack. Harry pretended not to see him as he knocked on the door. Alfred seemed committed to his bit; he waited a moment before stomping his feet in place, pretending to walk over to the door. Harry actually had to fight back a smile. Despite everything that he'd been through, the kid had spirit.

As the door opened, Alfred stared Harry down, waiting for him to speak. The room behind him was the nicest that Harry had seen in the house. It was a bit bare, but Harry could tell that a bit more effort was made to maintain it. The floor was scattered with odd toys, including a battered toy broomstick.

"Hello." Harry said. He didn't bother pretending to be cheery this time, as he doubted that the boy would be fooled. "Your mum said it'd be alright if I talked to you for a minute. Is that okay with you?" Alfred's shrug was a perfect mirror image of his mother's. "Excellent." Harry said. "Now remember, it's important that you tell me the truth so I can find your dad, alright?" Another shrug, which Harry accepted as the closest that he was going to get to ascent. "Alright… Do you remember the last time that you saw your dad?"

"Before he left." Alfred said. Harry could see that this wasn't going to be easy.

"Good." Harry said. "And did he say anything before he left?"

"No." Alfred said.

"I see…" Harry said. "But that isn't true now, is it?" Alfred stayed quiet. He seemed to be sizing Harry up again. "A couple of things… First of all, how do you know that he left? That he wasn't kidnapped?"

The boy thought for a moment before he answered. "I heard Mum talking about it. I was listening to you from the stairs." Harry didn't doubt this at all, but he was sure that it wasn't the whole story.

"Right, of course." Harry said. "So that just leaves one thing…. Earlier when I first arrived and started asking about your dad, you said 'Mum and Dad said not to talk about it.' So, he must have told you that he was leaving, and I'm guessing he's told you more than that."

Alfred didn't seem to feel any pressure having been caught in his lies. On the contrary, he almost looked impressed. The feeling was mutual; Alfred hadn't broken eye contact with Harry or given any other signs of lying. If his young brain hadn't slipped a few small inconsistencies into his story, Harry would've been fooled. There was no doubt that the boy was precocious- perhaps to a fault. They stared each other down for a minute before Alfred spoke.

"Is it true that you're friends with… With people like me?" It took Harry a moment to figure out exactly what he was getting at. Alfred seemed to sense his confusion and clarified. "I recognized you before. My dad said that he read in the paper that you had friends who were werewolves. He read me a thing that you wrote for your friend."

"Oh, yeah." Harry said, finally catching on. He felt a bit stupid for not realizing what Alfred had meant sooner; he must have meant the eulogy that Harry had written for Remus Lupin in the Daily Prophet. He supposed that it made sense that Joseph would want to expose his son to the first Werewolf to receive the Order of Merlin First Class. Harry was actually quite happy to hear that his piece seemed to have made a difference. "That's true. Remus Lupin was my friend."

"I don't have friends." Alfred said frankly. "There are no other kids around here. Mum says we can't live near other people." He looked sadly at Harry, but didn't cry. "Now that Dad's gone, I don't really have anybody to play with. I don't blame him, though."

For a moment, Harry was reminded of his own childhood. Through the combined efforts of his Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin, he hadn't made a single friend until he'd been admitted to Hogwarts. He was sure that Beatrice had her son's best intentions at heart, but he couldn't help but feel for the boy. Suddenly, he realized why his eulogy had resonated with Alfred. It wasn't the Order of Merlin or Remus' other accomplishments; it was that he had friends and family that loved and missed him despite his condition.

"Do you like Quidditch?" Harry asked. He instantly got the reaction that he'd been looking for as Alfred's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

"I listen all the time on the radio!" He said excitedly.

"I thought so." Harry said. "Say if I can convince your Mum, would you like to come to a match sometime?" Harry had a feeling that Beatrice wouldn't like the idea and felt bad putting her in a tough spot, but he knew that Alfred needed this. The boy was practically vibrating with excitement by this point. "Excellent, I'll find a good game and work out the details with your Mum."

Deciding that he'd have plenty of time to ask questions later, he patted Alfred on the shoulder and said goodbye. He collected Ron downstairs, giving Beatrice a quick heads-up about the offer he'd made to Alfred. Contrary to his expectations, she didn't offer much resistance. Her resistance crumbled quickly as Alfred ran up behind Harry to provide reinforcements in the form of nearly incoherent begging.

"Well, that was productive." Ron said sarcastically as they walked down the road. Harry had once again taken out his coin, and was adeptly flipping it around in his fingers as he thought. Whatever Ron said, he had definitely felt that visiting the Robinson household had been very productive indeed.

"There's more here, I can feel it." Harry said. "I've got to get closer to the kid before he'll tell me, but I know that he knows something.

Ron looked doubttful. "You really think so?" He asked. "Because I don't see it, to be honest with you. The kid may know where his dad ran off to, but that doesn't get us any closer to Greyback."

"And you think that finding his dad isn't a worthwhile cause?" Harry said a bit more savagely than he meant to.

"It's not that at all." Ron said hastily. "It's just not really our job is all. We're aurors, not family councilors."

"Well, we'll work on it more tomorrow." Harry said. "Say, why don't you and Hermione come over for dinner? I forgot to mention earlier, but Ginny's home." He decided to leave out the finer details of Ginny checking herself out against the Healers' recommendation.

Ron agreed, and set off for home to grab a change of clothes and retrieve Hermione. Harry followed suit, turning on the spot to apparate. The house was unusually quiet when he arrived. Harry figured that this was a good thing; as it meant that Ginny was likely still resting in bed with a contended Camilla. He took great care to open the door as quietly as possible as to not disturb her, and was once again shocked by the sight that greeted him within his bedroom.

Ginny was indeed still in bed, although apparently not by choice. Her arms were spread apart from her body, tied at each wrist to the opposing bedposts by thick black cords. Camilla, apparently indifferent to Ginny's distress, was standing upright in a position that allowed Ginny to pat her head with one bound hand.

"Ginny?" Harry asked, worry numbing his brain. "What the hell happened here?" His concern was immediately overwritten by fear as she turned a furious stare to him. For a very brief moment, he was tempted to slam the door shut and pretend he hadn't seen anything. He might've ended up doing just that if he'd thought that he could get away with it.

"Your mad House-Elf happened, Harry." Ginny said. Harry wondered she managed to make her tone so furiously hot and scathingly icy all at once. "I'd suggest that you ask him, because I have no idea what he was thinking." She said. "But I'd suggest that you send him away before you untie me, because otherwise you'll be the one cooking dinner."

"Kreacher!" Harry called. Again, the House-Elf appeared with a loud crack.

"Master Harry!" The Elf croaked. "So sorry, Kreacher was busy polishing the silver and did not hear your arrival. So stealthy, Master Harry is."

"Er, Kreacher…" Harry said, scratching his head and wondering vaguely how his life had ended up this way. "Why is Ginny tied up?"

"You said it yourself, Master Harry!" Kreacher said.

"Wha- No!" Harry shook his head emphatically, as Ginny was again staring daggers at him. "I definitely did not say anything of the sort. Nuh-uh. Definitely not. Couldn't be."

"Ah, but you did indeed! Kreacher never forgets an order. Master said _'You make sure that she doesn't leave that bed."_ Kreacher said in a surprisingly good imitation of Harry's voice. "Kreacher caught her sneaking out of bed, and Kreacher put a stop to it like Master Harry ordered him to."

Harry's heart sank. It appeared that the blame would fall to him on this one. "You didn't have to tie her up, though…"

"Twas no trouble at all, Master Harry!" Kreacher said, thoroughly misinterpreting Harry's tone. "Kreacher has had plenty of practice. In fact, when Kreacher's old Master was away, Kreacher's mistress would often request that he-"

"STOP." Harry practically shouted. Thankfully, Kreacher was bound to obey the order, and instantly fell silent. "Listen, Kreacher. Ron and Hermione are coming over for dinner. Why don't you set the table and then go spend the night at Grimmauld Place?" Kreacher's ancient, ugly face lit up. As Harry was not particularly fond of Sirius' old house, he'd more or less given it to Kreacher. The House-Elf was seldom happier than when he was granted permission to go and clean his old dwelling. With an enthusiastic salute, Kreacher disappeared to the kitchen to prepare the meal.

Luckily for Harry, Ginny seemed to have simmered down a bit. He'd seen her trying to stifle a giggle at Kreacher's comment about his old Mistress out of the corner of his eye. "You know, you really shouldn't be getting up." He said, pressing his advantage. "What were you trying to do anyway?"

She avoided his gaze, mumbling something about not wanting to fall behind on her exercises. Harry was about to scold her, when suddenly, the sound of the front door flinging open rang through the house. "Oh, dammit." Harry mumbled. "They're early!"

"Figures Ron wouldn't knock." Ginny grunted. "Quickly, hurry up and untie me."

"Oi, Harry?" Ron's voice echoed through the house, growing closer by the second. Harry heard Hermione chastising him, but knew that she could only be counted on to hold him off for so long.

"Er, just a moment!" Harry called, throwing himself on the bed, straddling Ginny to get an angle on both ropes. He could still hear Ron approaching as he fumbled with the knots. The knots were tight, and the cords were far to thick for him to break. Desperation clouding his mind, he scanned his surroundings for a blade to cut her bindings.

"No, your wand!" Ginny moaned. "Use your wand, idiot!" But it was too late. Ron flung the door open, and Harry realized all too late that he'd placed himself in the worst possible position, with one leg on either side of Ginny's torso.

Ron's mouth opened and closed several times very quickly, and his entire body seemed to be turning an angry shade of red. Harry desperately fished around for something to say to diffuse the situation, but Ginny spoke before he could come up with anything.

"Yeah, that's right." She said savagely to Ron. "Maybe you'll knock next time, won't you?" This time, Ron's mouth stayed open in shock, but only momentarily before he fell into a deep faint. "What?" She raised an eyebrow at Harry who was wearing an almost equally shocked expression. "He had to learn sometime, may as well be now." She shrugged as best she could with her arms bound as they were. "You know, come to think of it, this isn't so bad." She looked up at Harry with a mischievous grin. "You should try it sometime. Hello, Hermione." She finished unabashedly.

Hermione stood in the doorway, her profuse apologies for Ron's rudeness abruptly cut off by the sight before her. She nearly tripped over Ron on the floor, but didn't lower her eyes. "Oh, I… Um." A deep pink blush spread across her cheeks as she made unwilling eye contact with them. "I'm sorry!" She squeaked, darting out of the room.

"Anyway, do you mind?" Ginny gestured to her bonds with her head. "I'm starved, and I'd really like to go eat." Shaking his head, Harry retrieved his wand and severed the cords. He, on the other hand was not looking forward to what was sure to be the most awkward meal he'd had since the time when he'd accidentally turned his Aunt Marge into a parade float.


	15. Chapter 15

The next few weeks passed very slowly for Harry. He and Ron continued searching for any signs of suspicious werewolf activity, but their efforts were largely in vain. Their meetings with families of missing werewolves were for the most part more of the same: tragic stories that ultimately were no help whatsoever. His life at home wasn't going much more smoothly. Ginny had been given permission to end her bedrest after a week, but this hadn't done anything to improve her morale. On the contrary, her limited mobility seemed to frustrate her even more.

Her father had somehow managed to obtain a Muggle wheelchair for her. While Harry felt that he would vastly prefer the alternative the Healers had suggested (simply enchanting an ordinary chair to walk), she actually seemed to like the wheelchair, saying matter of factly that it would be a good upper-body workout. Indeed, she seemed to be determined not to miss a beat in her workout regimen. She seemed to spend nearly every waking moment performing pull-ups, crunches, or any of the other exercises that were still available to her. On weekends, she and Harry would visit the empty fields that surrounded the burrow to practice her quaffle throwing. Before long, these drills proved more exhausting for him than her. As he'd never played Chaser for any significant amount of time, Ginny had a much better throwing arm than him. She could throw accurately at a much greater distance, resulting in a great deal of Harry catching her throws, running to a distance from which he'd be able to comfortably throw, and then running back to where she'd actually be throwing to.

She insisted on attending every Cannons practice and match, despite being unable to participate her. Harry attended a few matches alongside her. He couldn't say which were harder for her to watch; the matches that they lost while she watched helplessly, or the ones that they won regardless of her absence. She never said as much, of course. Harry knew that she wasn't one to complain, and as they were both busy with their work and spent most of their limited time together at opposite ends of an empty field, she wouldn't have had the time to complain to him if she'd wanted to.

By the middle of October, Ginny was showing no signs of improvement. The healers had reassured her that it was to be expected, but she grew more restless all the same. Sometimes Harry observed her channeling this excess energy into productive means, such as studying advanced Quidditch plays and drawing up her own. Other times, she chose more questionable activities.

One such occurrence came after a particularly uneventful work day. Harry and Ron had been banging their heads against the Greenback case for weeks, and seemed to be farther away than when they'd first started. A long day filled wall-to-wall with re-reading files and back and forth debating about their next course of action had left Harry with a throbbing headache , and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and tune out the world for the rest of the night. Sadly, it was not to be.

He opened the door to find Ginny sitting in a revolving armchair, several throwing darts clutched in one hand, a glass of firewhisky in the other. Looking up, Harry found a dartboard stuck to the ceiling. There were several darts stuck in the board, surrounded by many more in the ceiling itself. Harry took a moment to try to figure out exactly what was going on. He considered asking, but quickly decided that he didn't need to know. Unfortunately, Ginny felt differently.

"Harry!" She said brightly. "Perfect timing, I need your help with something." Harry didn't speak as she downed the remainder of her drink and put her glass down, using her now-free hand to lift her legs onto the chair so she was sitting cross-legged. "I need you to spin this chair as fast as you can. Well, what are you waiting for? Go on."

Harry could see that there was no way out now. He let out a sigh, pressing a palm into his forehead to attempt to suppress his headache. "Alright, back up a minute." He said. "What are you trying to do here? Because it looks like a really bad way of doing… Well, anything, really."

"I'm training." She said. When Harry didn't move to spin her, she rolled her eyes and continued. "I'm practicing my aim while spinning."

"I think you might want to practice your aim without spinning first…" Harry said, eyeing the dartboard overhead nervously. Upon closer inspection, he could see even more holes in the ceiling where she must've already retrieved some of her other misses. He wasn't sure exactly how many there were, but there were enough that he was sure he didn't want to be anywhere near her when she was throwing.

"Oh, hardy her har." She said, rolling her eyes again. "But I think this could give my game an edge. If I can shoot the Quaffle while rolling, that's another tool I can pull out in a pinch."

Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of this. On one hand, she had a point. A spinning chaser would be difficult to anticipate and block. On the other hand, he knew that she had at least one glass of firewhisky in her. "So… How much have you had to drink tonight?" He asked, trying not to sound too nervous.

Ginny shrugged. "Dunno, wasn't really counting." She said. Harry raised an eyebrow. "No, really." She said, demonstrating her steadiest voice. "I'm fine, I just had-"

"Enough to make you think that this is a good idea." Harry groaned. "Alright, alright." He couldn't believe what he was saying, but he didn't have the energy to put up more than a token resistance. "Let's just get this over with, then." Reluctantly, he gripped the arm of the chair and spun it.

Harry threw himself to the floor to avoid the darts flying out in all directions. After about thirty seconds, the thumping of darts making their targets (intended or otherwise) had stopped, and it seemed safe to resurface and assess the damage. Two of the seven that she'd thrown had hit the board. Three were within five feet of the board, and the final two were on opposite walls.

"Not awful." Ginny said. Harry thought it best not to respond to this statement. "Let's give it another go, then."

"No, absolutely not." Harry said firmly. He wasn't entirely sure, but he could have sworn that the dart in the closer wall lined up with where his head had been only moments before. Besides, between the alcohol and the spinning, Ginny was beginning to turn a dangerous shade of green.

"Fine. You used to be so much more fun…" Ginny pretended to pout.

"Oh yeah?" Harry said amusedly. "When was that?"

"Fair point. You were never fun, I guess." Ginny said. "Oh, and before I forget, a letter came for you today. There's something funny about it."

Harry's paranoia, born of years of attempts on his life, instantly flared to life. "What, you think it might be cursed or something?" He asked.

"No, nothing like that." She said hurriedly. "It's just… Weird. It's on the table, go have a look for yourself."

Harry did so, taking the letter from the table. He could instantly see why it confused her. Having never sent or received a Muggle letter, the stamp and return address would seem rather bizarre to her. Not that she was likely to have noticed, but the letter didn't have a proper addressee; it simply read _'Harry Potter'_ where the his address should have been. However, it was the return address that really puzzled him.

"Harry, are you feeling alright?" Ginny had lifted herself into her wheelchair and followed him to the kitchen. "You're looking a bit pale of the sudden."

"Yeah, I'm alright." Harry said. He reread the address several times to make sure that he had it right. There it was, clear as day; _'4 Privet Drive.'_ Harry wasn't the least bit sure how to process this information. He felt that he'd had established a pretty clear understanding with the Durselys that the last time that they'd spoken would indeed be the last time, and that they'd all be much happier for it. He opened the letter very cautiously as though expected it to bite him. He found himself almost disappointed that it did no such thing, as that would have delayed the inevitable reading of the letter for a few precious moments.

"Well, what is it?" Ginny asked impatiently, her curiosity clearly getting the better of her.

"The Dursleys." Harry said. "Or Dudley, I guess. Wonder when he learned how to write…" None of this made any sense to Harry. This had to be some kind of trap; the alternative was unthinkable. No, somebody definitely had to be trying to kill him. It was a bit disturbing to him how he actually found that to be a comforting alternative to interacting with his last living blood relatives, but he'd have to unpack that later.

"You're kidding…" Ginny had never met Dudley, but she'd heard plenty of stories from Harry and her brothers. "Why's he writing to you all of the sudden? Doesn't he hate your guts?"

"He did, anyway." Harry had been so busy in the year after he last left the Dursley's home that he hadn't really had time to analyze their last interactions, but he supposed he had left things on better terms with Dudley than either his Aunt or Uncle. He wasn't really sure exactly where they stood. While Dudley had apparently shown some kind of change of heart, he had never been much for words. This apparently hadn't changed at all in the last two years, as the letter consisted of a single sentence inviting Harry over for tea the following Saturday.

"Ah, I can't go then. I've got… Well, I'll think of something." Harry said. "Hey, what's with that look?"

"Well, he _is_ your family, Harry." Ginny said.

"I mean, maybe in some sense of the word." Harry mumbled. He didn't like to admit it, but she had something of a point. On the other hand, he was on the longest streak of not returning to Privet Drive in his entire life, and the thought of breaking it was positively heartbreaking. "Fine, but if I'm doing this, then you're coming along." When she failed to look disappointed in the slightest, he began to suspect that something was afoot. "Hold on, you actually _want_ to go?" He asked suspiciously.

"Well, you always made him sound so interesting." She said. Harry couldn't think of a less appropriate word to describe Dudley. "I mean, does he really have a pig's tail?"

"You know he doesn't, I've told you he had it taken off years ago." Harry said, narrowing his eyes warily.

"Look, I just think that it's important that I get to know your family." She said.

Harry was sure that she was up to something, but figured that she'd regret whatever it was as soon as she met Uncle Vernon. "Fine, suit yourself." He said.

From that point on, time seemed to move much faster than Harry would have liked. Before he knew it, it was Friday and he was packing up his things for the weekend. He'd dragged his feet a bit leaving, hoping by some miracle that he'd discover some urgent course of investigation that would need to be tended to immediately, requiring him to cancel his plans the following day. However, by half past seven o'clock that night, he'd had to acknowledge that no such luck would be coming his way. By this point the usually bustling office had fallen silent, with everybody having gone home already- or so Harry thought, anyway.

He'd just finished packing up the files that he'd wanted to read over the weekend when he felt the sudden force of a hand clasping on his shoulder, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. Without a thought, his wand was out of his pocket, pointed behind him, with a jinx on his lips. Just before he let loose, he was distracted by the flashing of familiar teeth.

"Oh. It's you." Harry said grumpily, stowing his wand. "What do you want?"

"Harry, something's come up, and I'm afraid that I'll be needing your help." Gilderoy Lockhart stood just behind Harry, his arm still stubbornly fixed on Harry's shoulder. He was smiling brightly, apparently oblivious to how close he'd just come to having his smile ruined by a pack of Harry's nastiest jinxes. "You see, I've got an arrest to make, and a spot of backup wouldn't hurt."

Harry had done a decent job of avoiding Lockhart so far. He'd managed to settle into a sort of rhythm that naturally avoided whatever garish colors Lockhart had decked himself in on a day to day basis. Unfortunately, it seemed that Lockhart had noticed at last. Harry was sure that he'd waited until the rest of the office had left to approach him. He vaguely wondered how long Lockhart had been waiting him to be the last to leave. Harry couldn't remember all the times in his second year at Hogwarts that he'd been cornered for staged photo opportunities.

"Well, I would, but I've got…" Harry began, hoping that he'd be able to fill in the blanks by the end of the sentence. Sadly, his brain failed him, and he was unable to come up with an immediate excuse that would get him out of helping Lockhart without divulging personal information that he would prefer his former professor not have access to. "Never mind… What is it?"

Lockhart cracked his familiar grin; Harry immediately regretted agreeing to help, as this smile had never meant good things for him. "Excellent, I knew you'd be a sport, Harry. I'm on the trail of a den of Necromancers, and I'm looking to nab a couple of their errand boys. I've managed to link a couple of Muggle grave robbings, and I suspect that they're selling their plunder to be used as inferi."

Harry felt an odd squirming in his stomach. He'd already had one experience with inferi, and he'd hoped never have to repeat it. Not to mention that he had his own case of corpse-snatching to deal with. But there was no avoiding it, this was something that had to be stopped.

"Alright, alright." Harry said. "Just tell me where we're going so we can get this done with."

Less than ten minutes later, he found himself on the outskirts of a muggle village, following Lockhart's lead. Harry was greatly appreciating the cloak Ginny had given him, as the wind was blowing fiercely around him. Lockhart's dress was less pragmatic- he was wearing an aggressively pink set of robes that flowed behind him as he walked.

"Nearly there." Lockhart said. Harry had to admit that he had changed since his accident- it would have been very unusual for the Lockhart he knew to actively seek out the chance to risk his own safety for the greater good. "When bodies started going missing from the town graveyard, I suspected that dark wizards may have been behind it and placed a tracking charm on the remaining graves. Er, nothing intrusive, of course. In any case, the bodies are here." He stopped in front of an old ruin of a house. The smell of mildew was quite overwhelming, forcing Harry to cover his nose with his cloak. "Well, no sense standing around here." Lockhart sounded oddly cheerful, given the circumstances.

Figuring that he was primarily there to provide cover in case things went sour, Harry stayed quiet and followed several steps behind as Lockhart marched up the steps and pressed an ear to the door. "Hm… It's quiet in there." He said. He drew his wand and gave the doorknob a smart tap. The door silently swept open, revealing the interior of the house. The smell of mold instantly doubled. Cautiously, they stepped inside. It had clearly been abandoned for quite some time; the furnishings were outdated by a decade at the very least, and the level of disrepair indicated more.

Lockhart silently motioned to look around the hallway, indicating that he'd stay behind to cover the door. Harry didn't like this plan in the least, but was hardly in a position to argue. More annoyed than afraid, he set off down the hallway. He felt that he had little to fear from common grave robbers, but was it too much to ask that Lockhart take point on his own investigations?

Harry was so wrapped up in his internal ranting that he failed to hear the muffled breathing until just a split second too late. By the time he'd reached the handle of his wand, he was already seeing the stunning spell rushing at him. It wasn't quite powerful enough to knock him out, but he was launched into the wall, landing awkwardly on his right arm. Pain flared out from his wrist. He couldn't see it, but he could tell that it was at least sprained, if not broken. Cursing his own cockiness for rushing ahead without already having his wand drawn, he struggled to right himself. Surely Lockhart would have heard the commotion and would be along any moment now… But the seconds passed, and after a full half minute, Harry began to lose hope. He'd already seen Lockhart prepared to leave him, Ron, and Ginny to die in the Chamber of Secrets, and felt foolish for trusting him.

The house was silent, except for the excited, uneven breathing that would have tipped him off had he been paying attention. "Well?" An impatient, husky man's voice issued from somewhere Harry couldn't see. "What've we got? Is it a Muggle?"

"Of course not, you idiot." A higher voice said. "Ever seen a Muggle wearing robes like that?"

"Oh, damn…" There was a tinge of panic in the husky voice. Harry didn't like this at all; these people were unpredictable enough when they weren't spooked. "This isn't good, Thad. What if he's Ministry? Or an Auror?"

"Then we deal with it." The higher voice, who Harry assumed to be Thad, said. "Lift his head, get a look at his face." Harry closed eyes, pretending to be unconscious. Until he regained his ability to move, there was no sense in making himself seem like more of a threat than he really was. He left them open just enough that he could just barely see a sliver but would still pass for being asleep. He felt a hand roughly grasp his hair, yanking his head upwards. He momentarily cursed Ginny's request that he let it grow out, before feeling a pang of regret for his harsh thoughts upon realizing that he may never make it back to her. The thought stiffened his resolve not to die here if there was anything at all that he could do about it.

Under his eyelids, he could just barely make out a featureless white mask staring down at him. He had to summon all of his resolve not to flinch under the hot breath that issued from the strangers mouth. The figure's muscular frame was draped in a tattered black robe. Behind the mask, Harry could see a head of thinning white-blonde hair, punctuated irregularly by bald patches.

"Oh, no… Oh, no…" The figure holding Harry said, clearly beginning to panic. "Oh no… This can't be happening."

"What's the matter with you?" That hissed. "Pull yourself together. Rudy!" Harry was beginning to regain sensation in his body, but it was coming back far too slowly.

"That's… That's Harry Potter!" Rudy stammered out. "What do we do? We're as good as dead?"

"Shut up." Thad said harshly. "He's not doing anything to us in this state. We stick to the plan." Harry knew that he was right. His coordination had been completely thrown off by the stunning spell; even if he could move, he'd be in no state to duel two on one. His mind reeled for any possible escape, but nothing came. An odd buzzing was blaring in Harry's ears, nearly drowning out Thad's voice as he continued. "We've got to move fast. Kill him, then take him downstairs with the rest. We'll prep and make the drop tonight, then get to the next safe house. We play our cards right, this is just a bonus."

"They're going to come after us…" Rudy groaned. "If we kill Harry Potter, everybody's going to want us dead…"

"And you think it'll be better if we just let him go, then?" Thad said. "Just send him running back to the Ministry with a pat on the back? He's here, so we know they're already onto us anyway. But if we kill him, we stall them a bit and we get some credibility. There's plenty of people who'll be more than happy to help us out once they find out we've done in Harry Potter. Now quit sniveling and do it, or hand over your wand so I can do it myself.

Harry could only manage a gentle twitch of his finger, so subtle that his attackers didn't even recognize it as a sign of consciousness. Seeing Rudy raise his wand to his forehead and recognizing the futility of his situation, Harry squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could. He'd seen the green flash that he knew to be coming enough in his life, and he didn't want it to be the last thing that he saw. Even through his eyelids, the light was blinding, and then everything was silent.


End file.
